200 Hours
by It Belongs In A Museum
Summary: In her opinion, Isabelle McCallum didn't deserve community service. She did something illegal, but it wasn't wrong. Her conscience was clear until the probation worker was murdered. Now all she could do was make the best of the situation. Which would probably be easier if that curly-haired Irishman stopped annoying the shit out of her. Gradual Nathan/OC, T for swearing&canon stuff.
1. This Is Going To Be Complete Shit

**Hi everyone! All I have to say is that I absolutely love Misfits, especially seasons 1 and 2 for obvious reasons. I will say that I am trying out a different style of writing than I'm used to, so this is kind of an experiment. Also I'm American, so I'm not entirely familiar with the slang. Feel free to yell at me whenever you see something wrong. Or whenever you don't like something. Or whenever you do like something. I just want you to the enjoy the story and input helps**

**This is Nathan/OC, but it is slow development since I'm more of a UST writer. Also, I would like to add that the first chapter was largely inspired by the story "Immaturity At Its Finest" by Persephone Price, but from chapter 2 on it's very, very different. Anyways, if you haven't read that story yet, you should.  
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**There is a soundtrack for the story saved as the last chapter under the title '200 Hours Soundtrack'. You should check it out!  
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Chapter 1 – This Is Complete Shit

Two hundred hours. Time to do the maths. That's twenty shifts of ten hours, twenty-five shifts of eight hours, or forty shifts of five hours. No matter which way you sliced it, it all added up to a giant pile of shit. And she would rather shave off her own eyebrows or listen to a full album by Justin fucking Bieber than spend a minute picking up litter or scraping up dog shit with these six ineffective delinquents. But here she was, just one of the group lined up along the railing outside the community center like a fucking buffet of petty crime.

In her opinion, Isabelle McCallum did not belong there along that stupid fucking railing in the first place. Was what she had done illegal? Well—yes, yes it was. But it bloody well had to be done didn't it? If she had started crying like a hungry, angry baby or shown some cleavage, or some other manipulative girly shit like that when the police had picked her up, she might have even gotten away with it. But that wasn't the case, was it? No, she had to go and run her mouth like she always did. Apparently Constable Reggie or whatever the fuck his name was didn't appreciate being called an 'insensitive prick' or being told to 'go home to his inflatable girlfriend'. Apparently her problem with authority didn't do her all that much good when she was actually interacting with the authorities.

Fuck it. None of it mattered at this point. And if someone laid out the choices in front of her, she would have done the exact same fucking thing, community service and all. But that didn't mean she had to be happy about it, and she certainly didn't have to put on a smile. Especially since her bright red hair in combination with that bloody orange jumpsuit made her look like a fucking carrot.

Izzy leaned her back against the railing with her arms crossed across her chest. It was a posture the court-appointed psychologist would have referred to as 'defensive', 'hostile', and 'antisocial'. Usually she would just glare at them, tell then that she was cold and to get the fuck on with it—though that was hardly disproving the point—but seeing as they were outside in unseasonably warm weather, that wouldn't have been the best course of action. Especially since nobody gave two shits in the first place.

She mostly ignored the probation worker's rambling speech, but the choice phrases she caught told her it was the same old song. 'Give back', 'make a difference', 'you're all a bunch of scum and should be euthanized'—it was all the same kind of bullshit platitudes that had been recycled over and over again. It was the kind of speech she had heard a thousand times from teachers, guidance counselors, and social workers, and it still wasn't any more true now than it had been then. Hell, the probation worker—Tommy? Timmy? something like that, but she really couldn't be bothered to remember—he didn't even seem to believe it. They were here because they had to be, and soon as their hours were up they would disappear like a fart in the wind. Great, now she was equating herself with a bowel movement.

Leaning forward from her position on the far left, Izzy took in the appearance of her fellow young offenders. On the other end of the line there was a pale, twitchy looking kid who seemed to have all the makings of a potential serial killer. Or an accountant. She couldn't quite decide. After him there were two other girls, both quite a bit shorter than her. The first has light brown skin and frizzy hair. She was very pretty, and seemed to be highly aware of that fact. Obnoxiously so, actually, given the way she kept touching up her lipstick in the reflective screen of her mobile. The other—the chav—had dirty blonde hair pulled back so tight it made Izzy's scalp itch and heavy eye makeup that looked like it was left over from the night before. The next contestant was a tall, lanky Irish kid with a mess of curly brown hair and a ridiculous smile on his face—good looking for as long as his mouth stayed shut, which apparently wouldn't last very long. For some reason he looked vaguely familiar, but at the moment she couldn't quite place him. On his left there was a wannabe gangster, who was trying his hardest to look like some sort of steeled criminal in spite of his slight build and comically large cap which made him look more like a bobble-head figurine than an actual person. Finally there was the one standing next to her—tall, dark-skinned, well-muscled—she didn't have to bother speculating about him. She'd seen the papers.

Izzy stared at her fellow delinquents as they bickered and complained and she sighed heavily. These were the people she would be spending the next few weeks with. Fan-fucking-tastic. She had been hoping for something more quiet, but it looked like she was now a resident of the Island of Misfit Toys. The curly-haired one seemed to notice her staring. He leaned forwards as well, catching her eye and blowing a ridiculously theatrical kiss that made her scrunch up her face in distaste. She remembered him now. He was that twat from the bowling alley.

Rolling her eyes she collapsed back against the railing and watched mutely as the entire situation devolved. She hadn't thought it possible, but these people were even more immature and self-involved than she had originally supposed. Irish started mouthing off to Wannabe, Diva started chatting on her mobile, Runner-guy wallowed in self-pity, and Chav was—well she really didn't know what Chav was on about because she really had no idea what she was saying. Their 'glorious new beginning' as functional members of society was pretty much ruined when Irish and Wannabe started a sad little charade of a fist-fight. Izzy was fairly certain neither of them even managed to land a hit. Neither of them really looked like they had the balls to do so anyway, it was all part of some idiotic male posturing that she hoped to God she would never have to understand.

After separating Irish and Wannabe, the probation worker tried to salvage his little speech, albeit unsuccessfully. To be honest he didn't seem to put all that much effort into it—she had met morticians with more enthusiasm. The can-do spirit of the system of criminal rehabilitation was seriously lacking. Izzy could see the frustration mounting behind his eyes. He looked kind of deranged, really. Eventually he sent them off to paint benches, angrily thrusting the cans of paint and brushes into each of hands as they filed out the community center. "Anger management issues," she muttered to herself as they walked down the steps towards the benches.

Izzy groaned and looked at the sky. It was overcast and grey just like every single other day on the estate. It was that kind of grey where if you looked at it for too long your eyes started to hurt from the sun shining behind it. It made the world look washed out, like a Polaroid that had sat in the sun for too long. Izzy crouched down and began to paint. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She had a tendency towards pessimism, but she had learned from an early age that high expectations lead to disappointment. And she had been disappointed enough for this lifetime, thank you very much.

As if on cue, there was an underwhelming explosion of sound from right next to her. "Argh! There's paint on my cap!" Wannabe screamed, clutching at that cap like it was a freaking family heirloom. "This is bullshit!" He proceeded to stomp away in what Izzy presumed was supposed to be a dramatic exit, kicking paint buckets and the like, though he did seem to hit a bit of a snag when he tripped over the shopping cart he was trying to do violence to. She couldn't help but let out a small snort of laughter at that.

"So what are you in for?" she overheard Irish asking the chav. "I'm guessing shoplifting."

"Don't act like you know me 'cause you don't," she said in a hesitant and almost sad voice.

"I'm just making conversation," Irish replied. "This is a chance to network with other young offenders. We should be swapping tips. Brainstorming. Come on, what did you do?"

"This girl called me a slag so we got into a fight." Izzy smirked to herself. Who the hell starts a fight for being called a slag? It was ridiculous. Sticks and stones may break my bones...they had learned all that shit in primary school. 200 hours of community service to defend your honor from some bitch who wasn't worth the effort in the first place? No thank you. There were better ways to take out your frustration, none of which involved picking up litter.

Irish paused and stroked his chin in thought, sardonically of course. "Was this on the Jeremy Kyle Show?" At that Izzy had to shove her fist in her mouth to keep back the laughter. This guy may be a complete dick, but at least he was entertaining. It was kind of like having a drunken grandparent around—you know, someone who says whatever the hell they want because they have nothing to lose and who can blame their bad behavior on senility.

"What about you, weird kid!" he shouted at boy sitting opposite her. "Don't take this the wrong way or anything," he said in a tone that was definitely going to be taken the wrong way, "but you look like a panty sniffer." He emphasized his point by miming sniffing what may have been the largest pants known to man.

"I'm not a panty-sniffer," the creeper replied in a tremulous voice. "I'm not a pervert."

Izzy narrowed her eyes at the kid. He might not be a pervert, but he was definitely dabbling in the crazy, what with the creepy, voyeuristic staring and the twitchy demeanor. He obviously had some sort of social anxiety disorder, but as far as she could tell that was the tip of the iceberg that was his neuroses. She stared at him carefully, but her psychological workup was put on hold when Irish began wanking off his paintbrush and making low groaning noises. Izzy wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't in the throes of a seizure. It certainly would explain a lot.

"I tried to burn a boy's house down!"

Cue awkward silence. Maybe creeper fit better in the box of serial killer than she had initially thought. He had definitely mastered the art of the murderous glare. She bit her lip and continued to paint, making a mental note next time not to pair up with the pyromaniac.

"What did you do?" the chav asked Irish.

"Who me?" Irish asked innocently. "I was done for….uh, eatin' some pick n' mix."

Izzy snorted and glanced up from her position on the ground. "I call bullshit."

"Ah! It speaks!" he exclaimed, waving his paint brush in her direction. "Don't take offense or anything love, but I was beginning to think you were suffering from some sort of grave mental affliction…...And what the hell do you know about it?"

Izzy stood up and pushed the hair from her face. "So you're telling me you're not the twat that tried to escape the fuzz by faking a seizure and crawling into the sodding pinsetter."

Irish whirled around wildly, looking for a witness. "Do I have a stalker—are you stalking me? Now why would you need to go and do that? You're a fit enough bird. And I'm a bloke, all you really have to do is ask."

She rolled her eyes and flicked some paint in his direction. "I have better things to do with my time than stalk a dickhead like you."

He put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows in mock indignation. "Well then what were you doing at the bowling alley, hm? Checkmate."

Izzy shook her head in disbelief. This guy was fucking unbelievable. "I was bowling, you twat. Is that not the conventionally agreed upon activity of the bowling alley?"

He pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't know, the story still seems a bit funny to me. Though I can see while you would remember a body like this," he said, gesturing to itself.

"Not so much," she replied, turning back to the bench. "It wasn't exactly displayed to its best advantage while spasming on the ground. It was kind of like watching a fish slowly die on the deck of the boat—sad, but not enough so to make you care."

The chav let out a bark of laughter and Izzy shot her a hesitant smile. She went back to painting, hoping the exchange was over and she would be left alone, but she had no such luck.

"How would you like me to display it?" he asked waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I can think of a few ways, but I'll consider other options."

Izzy opened her mouth to retort but was promptly cut off by a loud crack of thunder, prompting her to look at the sky. There were dark black clouds rolling in across the estate casting angry shadows, which was strange because they hadn't been there just moments before. The darkness made the area look even more dirty and depressing than usual.

"What is going on with this weather?" Irish demanded, voicing her thoughts.

Another crack of thunder rang out. Izzy glanced up to look at the sky again, but her eyes landed on the probation worker who was approaching with a look of extreme frustration on his face. "How'd that happen?" he asked, gesturing at the white paint that had spattered across the ground during Wannabe's ridiculous outburst. "I mean, you've been here five minutes. It's painting benches," he said with derision. "How do you manage to screw that up? You tell me because I've got no idea."

Izzy opened her mouth to make another stupid comment that would likely get her in even more trouble when there was suddenly a loud crashing noise. The shock of made her stumble and fall backwards, landing on her back. "What the fuck?" she exclaimed, pushing herself back to her feet. What looked to be a giant chunk of ice about the size of a beach ball fell from the sky and crushed in the roof of a nearby car, causing the alarm to blare out. That was not normal. She had studied precipitation patterns in her environmental sciences classes, and that kind of phenomena definitely did not make the curriculum. She took a few hesitant steps forward towards the car, craning her neck to get a better look.

"That's my car," the probation worker said in a small, sad voice, like a kid who just had their favorite toy taken away.

Irish laughed giddily. "Classic!"

She glanced around her at everybody else. They seemed about as freaked out as she was. And for some reason Twitchy had pulled out his mobile and started filming. There was something seriously off about that kid.

Just when Izzy's heart had slowed to its regular pace, there was another crash, this time from right behind her. She wheeled around and stared at the dark cloud. Huge chunks of ice began to fall from it, one after another, crashing down all around them. "Jesus Christ!"

"Alright everyone, let's get inside." The probation worker appeared to be trying to stay calm and collected. It didn't last very long. The next chunk of ice to hit sent him running and screaming along with the rest of them.

Izzy started running as quickly as she could, breath coming out in gasps and feet pounding against the floor. What the fuck was going on? The sky was literally falling. Izzy glanced over her shoulder. The creeper was holding his phone and swinging it about, trying to catch the whole thing on film. He tripped over a protruding brick and collapsed to the ground sending his phone skittering away. Izzy gritted her teeth as crawled on his hands and knees, searching for it, "Fuck," she muttered to herself before turning back. She grabbed hold of the collar of his orange jumpsuit and hauled him to his feet. "Sort out your fucking priorities, mate," she bit out, dragging him after her. Moments later a huge chunk of ice hit the ground and shattered right where creeper had been. Maybe if he did snap and go on a bloody rampage he would let her live seeing as she saved him and all.

By the time the two of them caught up with the others, they were banging on the doors to the community center. They were locked out. She really couldn't catch a fucking break. The probation worker was going through the keys with shaking hands while everyone else was screaming, yelling, and generally freaking out. Izzy could feel the panic rising and her throat constricting and then—BOOM!

All of them were catapulted backwards away from the door, hitting the asphalt with a loud thump. Izzy kept her eyes closed and didn't move, trying to process what had just happened. She had just been hit by lightening. She was hit by fucking LIGHTENING. Was she dead? She must be dead. Tentatively cracking one eye open, she glanced around. Everything seemed the same. If this was what the afterworld looked like, it was more than a bit of a letdown. Unless this was hell. That would make sense. What was it that Sartre wrote in "Huis Clos"? L'enfer, c'est les autres. Hell is other people. Maybe her own special brand of hell was that she was doomed to eternity performing community service with these six other shitheads and one temperamental probation worker. It seemed like a fairly good form of punishment.

Izzy's one open eye continued to rove until it she glanced up at the sky. It had cleared and there was no more apocalyptic hail. A relieved sigh escaped from her lips. She was alive. She was certain that eventually she would find the whole thing really, really cool, but for now she ached like an arthritic octogenarian. She slowly pushed herself up on her elbows and glanced around.

"I feel really weird," the chav said in a dazed sort of voice.

"No shit," Izzy groaned. "We just got hit by lightening. I'm pretty sure that kind of thing comes with side effects."

"We should be dead," Twitchy said quietly.

"It's great to have someone around with such a positive outlook," she muttered under her breath. She pulled herself up to the sitting position and took a deep breath. "Everybody okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?" Nobody responded, but they all seemed to be alive and intact. Which meant that she could colapse on hr back again,-something for which she was very grateful.

"Hey!" Irish shouted, snapping his fingers at the probation worker. "Hey! A little reassurance might be nice, you know. You're fine! Looking good!"

The probation worker looked seriously out of it, eyes rolling and head lolling about. "W-wanker."

Izzy collapsed on her back again, her body shaking with a wheezing laughter. She always had inappropriate reactions to things, but the probation worker's comment just pushed her over the edge.

"Did he just call me a wanker?" Irish asked in a disbelieving voice. "You there, Ginger, stop fucking laughing! We've all just had a brush with death! That kind of shit is traumatizing!"

"Ah, fuck off," she said still chuckling. "We were as good as dead a minute and a half ago. This should give you a new lease on life or some sort of therapeutic shit like that." She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, trying to catch her breath.

The probation worker started spasming a bit. His head was shaking and his mouth was making that same expression stroke victims do. "Is everyone alright?" he asked weakly.

"We could have died, you dick," the slutty diva girl spat, failing to disprove Izzy's first impression of her.

"Are you aw'right?" the chav asked, showing more concern than Izzy expected. "You're actin' like a freak." There it was.

"Maybe we should call it a day," the probation worker responded in a shaky voice.

Izzy stared absently at the pavement in front of her. Fuck. She didn't want to call it a day. She wanted to log as many hours as possible and get this shit over with as soon as possible so she could move on with her life. Given the near death experience she should probably want to go and get drunk in some sleazy bar, but for some reason she really wanted to just go back and finish painting that bench.

Suddenly there was a hand waving in front of her. "Oi, Ginger!" the curly-haired prick said, snapping his fingers in front of her face, making her eyes snap to his. "We're getting the fuck out of here, yeah."

"Yeah, Yeah, right," she said looking up at him. He offered her a hand and she looked at it skeptically before taking it and hauling herself to her feet. The two of them walked towards the locker room in a silence that lasted about thirteen seconds.

"Soooooooo," Irish said as casually as possible, draping his arm over her shoulders, "we've both just been through an emotional trauma. I'm vulnerable. You're vulnerable. I think we would both be given mutual comfort if we—"

"I'd rather shower with a bear," Izzy replied shortly. She gripped his fingers and pulling away his arm, walking away quickly.

"Are you a lesbian?" he shouted after her. "Because it's okay if you are! I'm not fussy! I'm sure I could find another traumatized girl or to wandering about the estate and we could put together a sort of group thing!"

Izzy didn't bother turning around or shouting back she just raised an arm in the air and made a fine display of her middle finger. She made her way to her locker and quickly toed off her bright blue Converse stripped off her orange jumpsuit, leaving her in her plain black sports bra and pants. They weren't lacy, frilly, and brightly colored like Diva's or Chav's, but they suited her just fine. She threw open her locker and pulled out her clothes. She quickly slid into her slightly baggy, ripped, motor oil-stained jeans, jumping up and down slightly, and pulled on her black tank top and that worn blue flannel shirt that had become her favorite.

Plopping back down on a nearby bench she paused for a minute to take a breath, absently playing with the necklace around her neck, the one she never took off. It didn't look like anything special, just a simple, un-embellished silver locket. She ran her thumb over the inscription on the back absentmindedly. It read 'To our darling Isabelle'. She had tried to kick the habit-she was afraid she would eventually rub off that inscription-but for some reason she couldn't stop. It made her feel safe and loved, which was something she needed after a day like this one. That and a couple of pints.

Izzy shook her head, forcing her mind to start functioning correctly again. The two other girls were both already dressed. Diva was retouching her makeup and Chav was brushing her hair back. Izzy sighed and laced up her Converse, enjoying the silence.

"Wot dy'a say?" the chav suddenly asked, turning to Diva and taking several very angry steps towards her.

"I didn't say anything," Diva replied, turning away and walking out the room.

Izzy just sat there, watching the chav scrape her hair back. It was oddly therapeutic, like watching waves crash on the beach. It had that sort of slow, steady, calming rhythm to it. But, God it must be painful. Why would someone put themself through that for the sake of a mediocre hairstyle? Not that she could throw any stones. The only styling her hair had ever seen was the messy bun.

Suddenly the chav wheeled around, advancing on her. "You got somefing to say, yeah?" she demanded angrily.

"I didn't say a fucking thing!" Izzy declared, standing up suddenly and slamming her locker door closed. Jesus, this daft cow didn't know when to stop. She was picking fights everywhere.

"Fock you!" she shouted, jabbing her finger angrily. "Mah name isn't Chav, and it isn't Cow, it's focking Kelly, you stupid bitch!"

"For fuck's sake, I didn't say anything!" she said, holding her hands in the air backing away. There was something seriously weird going on. She kicked the bathroom door open and strode out into the hallway. Twitchy, Irish, and Runner-boy Curtis were all standing around absently.

"Where's the probation worker?" Curtis asked.

"Fuck if I know," she replied, brushing past them. "And if I'm not getting my hours, I'm sure as hell not sticking around this shithole."

"What about my offer!" Irish shouted after her. "I've put out a few feelers, you know! Nobody's gotten back to me yet, but it's only been about 20 minutes!'

"I'll come see you when I've lost all sense of self-respect," she shouted over her shoulder.

Izzy shoved her hands in the pockets and started home. Actually, home was a generous term. It was more of a hovel, or maybe a multi-purpose closet. But it was what she had, and she wasn't going to complain about it. She would like to say that the stoicism came from some sort of enlightened understanding of the difficulties of others like the starving children in Africa, but in reality it stemmed from the fact that there was just no fucking use in being upset. The way she saw it, life deals you a hand. If it's a crap hand, there's no point in whining, because whining sure as fuck isn't going to change anything. And being bitter just takes too much energy.

For some reason mid-day on the estate always found a way to look like dusk. It was like the sun was always setting. She tried really hard not to see that as a metaphor, but it seemed appropriate. Izzy ducked into that alleyway that served as a shortcut from her 'flat' to the community center. She had made it half-way across when suddenly two shadowy figures appeared on the other end. She gritted her teeth and looked over her shoulder. There was another at that exit as well. Fuck. She could not catch a fucking break.

Taking a deep breath, Izzy continued to walk quickly, hoping that she might be able to just brush past them and continue on her way. Clearly karma had a bone to pick with her, because she was not so lucky.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" a low, gruff voice asked her.

"None of your fucking business," she replied, trying to push past them. But they shoved her back hard, sending her crashing to the ground. She jumped to her feet and took a few steps backwards, only to discover that the third one was right behind her.

"There's no reason for rudeness," the second one said with a smile. His teeth were so white it was almost sinister. "We're only trying to be friendly."

"Yeah, well I have herpes," she lied quickly, "so unless you want to be scratching your balls for the rest of your life, I would get the fuck out of my way."

She was shoved backwards, her back erupting in pain as it hit the concrete wall behind her.

"For some reason I just don't believe you," the first one said leaning in. Izzy could feel his breath on her face. It smelled of meat, cigarettes, and cheap lager. The panic was starting to seep into her bones, but she refused to let it take over. So she did the only thing she could do. She kneed him in the groin.

The first creeper doubled over in pain, and she kicked him in the head, making him crumple to the ground. But the the other two grabbed hold of her, shoving her back against the wall. She struggled against them, but the odds of one slim girl against two big blokes were hardly spectacular. They started to drag her down the alley as she kicked and screamed. Almost immediately, a strange pressure began to build in her body, like there was something beneath her skin that was trying to force its way to the surface.

"GET OFF OF ME!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. And all the sudden the pressure exploded outwards, and for some reason the two guys were sent flying away from her. Each of them collided with the wall, giving rise to a sickening crack. Izzy quickly scrambled to her feet and sprinted away. She had no idea what the fuck had just happened, but she was grateful for it.

Izzy didn't stop running until she reached her flat. Everything was just as she had left it, it looked like complete shit. Her dirty, second-hand mattress lay on the floor, sad and uncomfortable, her kitchen consisted of a microwave, a hot plate, and a mini-fridge, her bookshelves consisted of cinderblocks and planks of wood she stole from construction sites, and she had to share her bathroom with six other flats.

Izzy collapsed onto the mattress. She was broke, she was in community service, she had almost been sexually assaulted, she had no legitimate friends except for those she was related to or worked with, and with the conviction she had blown all her prospects. Fuck it all. At least the next few weeks wouldn't be boring. Today had proved that much. She collapsed onto the pillow and immediately fell asleep. Fuck life, delirium was suiting her just fine.

**************If anybody gets my the 'Constable Reggie' reference, you are officially one of my favorite people.  
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**Reviews are love! And I'm very needy.**


	2. I Am Going To Kill You

**Hey guys! Here's chapter 2. I really hope you like it and would love some feedback.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Misfits, and any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show itself.**

Chapter 2 – I Am Going To Kill You

Why the fuck was she still awake?

The way Izzy saw it, after a traumatizing day with two near-death experiences, she should at least be able to get a good night's sleep. Her sheer exhaustion should allow her to just float away into a nebulous cloud of oblivion. It seemed only fair. But there was no such luck for her. She had been lying there, waiting for her eyes to droop closed and have those waves of sleep wash over her, but for some reason her mind just wouldn't shut up. Part of it was that baby from 6C that would not stop its fucking crying, but if she was being honest with herself, for the first time her sleeplessness was not that baby's fault.

It was rolling on a loop in her mind, what had happened in that alleyway. And it wasn't those men that scared her, it was what had happened to them. It was what she had done to them. She could remember that pressure under her skin, that feeling of exploding outwards. What was happening to her? Was she hallucinating, or had that actually happened? She was arguing with herself about it all night, and hadn't gotten anywhere. In fact, she was getting even more confused.

Izzy rolled over on her lumpy mattress and looked at the cheap clock on the floor nearby. It read 5:54 AM in angry, red blinking numbers. She groaned and covered her face with her pillow. She took a breath and stayed under there for what felt like hours. And then the baby started crying again. Izzy ripped the pillow away in frustration and turned back to the clock. It was 6:02 AM. It was amazing how time seemed to move slowest at the most inconvenient times.

"Fuck my life," she mumbled under her breath. She hauled herself out of bed with a groan and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She tried not to think of the state of her hair, there was no doubt in her mind that it was sticking out every which-way, making her look like Medusa if her head was on fire. She slipped on her flip-flops and grabbed her towel and shower caddy, padding out of her 'flat' to her floor's shared bathroom. At least there was one upside to her insomnia. She would get to shower in hot water for the first time in weeks.

Izzy turned on the water and listened to that thunking noise that preceded that first massive spurt of the shower. She stepped under the cascade and sighed, feeling the hot water rain down on her shoulders and letting it wash away the insecurities of yesterday. The soap stung the scrapes that raked her wrists and upper arms where the men had grabbed her. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she felt clean. Her skin, that is. Her mind was still a rollicking mess.

Stepping up to the sink, she wiped away fog coating the mirror above it. The reflection staring back didn't look like her. There were bags under her eyes that had a bruised purple color to them, there was a small abrasion at her temple where her head had hit the wall, and her hair hung limp. She looked….broken. Well, fuck that. If there was one thing she wouldn't let herself be, it was vulnerable. When you're vulnerable, people take advantage. "Suck it up, McCallum," she whispered to herself.

By the time she was dressed, the sun had just started peeking over the horizon, making everything glow with a faint, cold light. Izzy turned to the cracked mirror in her room and dabbed makeup on, covering all signs of exhaustion and weakness. She pulled on her shoes, grabbed her bag, shoved some earphones in her ears, and walked out the door.

Izzy didn't really know where she was going. She just walked between the graffitied buildings, letting her feet pound on the pavement in time with the music. Eventually her feet found their way to the community center. She glanced at her watch. It was 7:33 AM. She was two and a half hours early. Fuck it. Waiting there would be a lot better than waiting in her flat. Her Swedish neighbors had taken to eating surströmming, and now everything in her flat smelled of fish and rotted eggs.

As she walked around to the entrance, she looked at the wall. Somebody had painted "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU" on the wall in big, red letters. "Tell us how you really feel," she muttered, raising her eyebrows at the new wall art. Somebody on the Estate had a seriously fucked up sense of humor. There must have been some crazy influx of psychotic wackjobs, because things definitely seemed to be getting crazier around here

Entering the community center, she bought herself a bottle of water and packet of crisps. Not the most nutritionally sound breakfast, but it would do. She strode into the main room, looking for a chair and munching on the crisps when she heard a strange noise. She pulled out her earphones to listen closer and realized that someone was snoring, and it was coming from that balcony over her head. Curious, she climbed the stairs to find none other than Irish, fast asleep and sprawled out in an unnatural position with a steady stream of drool pouring out of his mouth next to a pile of luggage. It was hardly a flattering image.

"Oi, wake up," she said nudging him in the ribs with the toe of her shoe.

Irish just readjusted his position and hugged his pillow to him. He smacked his lips and gave a silly smile. "Oh, yeah, that's how I like it," he murmured in his sleep. "Just like that, keep going."

Izzy rolled her eyes. What was it with blokes? Then spend 90% of their waking hours thinking about sex and then they spend their nights dreaming about it as well. It was no wonder they kept doing such stupid shit. As far as she could tell, blood flow was never exactly directed towards the brain. She twisted off the cap of her water bottle and upturned it over his head, sending the water cascading down onto his face.

"What the fuck!" he cried, holding his hands over his face.

"Good morning to you too," Izzy said shortly, peering down at him.

"Why'd you have to go and do that!" he cried, grabbing a rumpled T-shirt and using it to wipe his face. "I was having a bloody fantastic dream!"

She smirked down at him. "From the sound of it you needed a cold shower. So I gave you one."

Irish blinked heavily and shook his head, sending water flying everywhere. He pulled himself into the sitting position and a shit-eating grin covered his face. "You know," he said waving in her direction, "if you're trying to keep up this charade that you're not stalking me, you're doing a piss-poor job of it."

"You're right," she said in a seductive voice, making him blink. "There's nothing that gets me more hot and bothered….than finding a man drooling on the floor of the local community center."

The silly smile that had formed on his face faded quickly as she shifted into a tone dripping with sarcasm. He whirled his head around, as if he just realized where he was. "Ah, yes," he said, scratching his head. "My mum and I had a wee disagreement about the current state of our living arrangement. It was all a misunderstanding, really."

Izzy frowned. In her mind, that wasn't the way families were supposed to work. Not that she was all too familiar with the concept to begin with. "Your mum kicked you out?" She asked in a harsh voice. "Without making sure you had somewhere else to go?"

"Nooooooooooo," he said in a patronizing voice. Izzy folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, making him falter. "Okay, yes. But like I said, it was a misunderstanding. It'll all be sorted in a few days time and then she'll be back to fixing me dinner and cleaning my laundry."

Izzy let out a snort of laughter. If she had been his mum, she might have kicked him out as well. She turned around to leave when his hands encircled her wrist. The pressure on her bruised wrist caused her to wince slightly.

"Don't tell the others about this, yeah?" he asked in a plaintive voice.

"It's none of their fucking business," she replied with a shrug. "Hell, it's none of my business either. The way I see it, your shit is your shit, nobody's got to smell it but you. If you've got to live here, that's your prerogative. And it's not so bad. It's a hell of a lot nicer than my flat." Izzy wasn't sure why she was trying to make this guy feel better. All evidence pointed to the idea that he was a complete twat. But then again, even twats could have a bad day.

Irish cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her. "I never did catch your name, love."

"That's because I didn't give it to you."

"Oh, come on, man. I'm only trying to be friendly. You don't want me to keep calling you Ginger?" He pointed to himself. "I'm Nathan. This is the part where you tell me your name."

She sighed and fell back against the balcony's railing. "Izzy."

"Now that wasn't so difficult, was it," he said, standing up and stretching theatrically. He cracked one eye open and looked at her with a smirk. "See something you like?"

"I am quite fond of those superman sheets," she said pointing at his makeshift bed. "My nine-year-old brother has a set of those, and he absolutely loves them."

"Well, what can I say, love? I'm a superhero between those sheets," he said, shooting her a wink. "I take all the ladies to infinity and beyond."

"That's 'Toy Story,' you over-sexed Chia pet." Izzy shook her head in disbelief and turned, walking back down the stairs. "Un-fucking-believable."

Finding a chair, she collapsed into it, shoving her earphones back in and pulling a book out of her bag. She started to read, but then the sleep that had eluded her all night found her and she nodded off.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

"WAKE UP!" someone screamed in her ear.

Izzy jolted into consciousness and fell off her chair, landing hard on her ass. "Son of a whore!" she exclaimed, rubbing at the back of her neck which had become stiff during her little nap. She looked up to see Irish—Nathan—leaning over at the waist and laughing hard. "You should have seen the look on your face!" he said through guffaws of laughter. "Classic!"

"Was that really necessary?" she groaned, hauling herself to her feet.

He ignored her and grabbed her book which had fallen to the floor. "'Crime and Punishment'? Why on earth are you reading something like that? Why would you do that to yourself?"

"Seemed appropriate given the circumstances," she mumbled. "Didn't your mother teach you not to take other people's shit?" She grabbed the book out of his hands and forced it back in her bag. "Why did you wake me?"

"It's time to repay our debt to society," he said tapping his watch.

Izzy snorted. "We wouldn't want the litter to start suffering from separation anxiety, now would we?"

Izzy grabbed her bag and followed him around to the front of the community center by a route that for some reason involved climbing out a window. The others were already there, staring at the graffittied wall. I'M GOING TO KILL YOU. Izzy wrinkled her nose as she looked at it. For some reason it gave her the shivers. Why would anybody bother to paint that in the first place? Izzy squinted her eyes as she realized that the word 'kill' had been underlined three times. That shit was creepy.

"This is a joke!" Runner-boy Curtis exclaimed. "Did one of you do this?" He waved his hand around pointing at them all.

Izzy shot him a withering look and slapped his hand out of her face. "Why the fuck would any of us come back to the community center—after hours—and paint some bullshit threat on the wall? I think it's safe to say none of us care enough to put in the effort to do something like this."

"I'll tell you who did it," Nathan said eagerly. "It was that Banksy prick. There's a hidden meaning."

Izzy rolled her eyes and readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "I think the meaning's pretty explicit. Seeing as someone literally spelled it out for us and all."

"Nah," Nathan replied wrapping his arm around the weird kid. "It's like the monkey policeman with the banana and the Tesco's bag. Hidden meaning."

"Maybe someone wants to kill us," weird kid said in a small voice, his eyes glancing around creepily.

Chav—Kelly—looked at him like he was insane. "Uh, why would anybody want to kill os?"

Just then the probation worker waltzed up to them, telling them to get to work. He spouted off some quip about 'antisocial behavior' and everything was business as usual until Diva's phone rang. Again. There was no way she was interesting enough to merit all those phone calls, and they were seriously starting to become a pain in her ass because the probation worker decided to confiscate their phones. When he got to her, with his hand held back, she just stared back. He leveled her with an angry glare. "Phone. Now."

"Don't have one," she said quickly, raising her eyebrows. "I was raised in one of those cults. Luddites, they called themselves. Don't believe in technology."

"I can see that," he said angrily, ripping the earphones out of her ears. "Give me the fucking phone."

Izzy sighed, rolling her head back. She fished around in her bag until she found it and tossed it at him. He glared at her before moving on. "Prick," she mumbled under her breath as she followed the others into the locker room. Glancing around the room, she did a quick head count. Wannabe had skipped out. As far as she was concerned, he had the right idea.

Brushes and buckets. That was what they got that day. She should have known from the minute she passed that stupid fucking graffiti how she would be spending her day. At least it was better than scraping up dog shit. Even if she did have to listen to Curtis and Diva—whose name was apparently Alisha—verbally copulating somewhere in the background. Alisha was proving herself to be just as slutty, shallow, and self-absorbed as her first impression had suggested. And Curtis was proving himself to be a bloke.

Izzy let out a long, frustrated sigh and jammed her headphones into her ears, letting the music wash over her and running her brush over the red paint. The paint mixed with the soapy water and pooled on the floor. It looked kind of like blood. Izzy was in the middle of mentally berating herself for being so morbid when her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Kelly.

"Ya know after the storm, did any o' yous lot feel dead weird?"

Izzy felt her stomach clench a bit and she stopped scrubbing. Her mind immediately flew to the episode in the alley. But that had been a fluke, right? A hallucination. Or maybe it was some weird, residual electricity from the lightening strike. No, that was ridiculous. Izzy could feel a strange sort of tension rising air, like it was building to something, some sort of strange realization or epiphany. And then it crumbled into dust.

"I did!" Nathan said in a loud voice. "I had a strange tingling sensation in my anus."

Swearing inwardly, Izzy started scrubbing again. "I believe that's called hemorrhoids," she said, flicking some water at Nathan. "You should probably schedule some sort of appointment."

"Did ya feel weird," Kelly persisted, turning to the creepy kid. He was glancing at her hesitantly. It definitely looked like he wanted to say something, but Izzy had the distinct feeling that he wasn't going to say a word. He was far too shy for that.

"You mean you don't want to hear about my anus?" Nathan demanded in a shocked tone.

"I think you should keep that whole issue between you and a medical professional," Izzy shot back, gesturing at him with her brush.

She put the earphones back in, cranking up the music and ignoring the antics unfolding next to her. Creeper was trying to talk and Nathan was being a twat. The song remains the same. All the sudden she felt herself flying sideways as Nathan collided with her.

"Jesus!" she cried, trying to regain balance. She looked up to see Kelly storming off somewhere. "What the hell was that?"

"Fuck if I know," Nathan muttered.

Eventually the lot of them decided to take a break. The probation worker—Teddy or something—had fucked off to God knows where, and wasn't there to tell them off she sure as well wasn't going to waste her time. Most of them were in the rec room. Kelly was still off somewhere sulking and Alisha had wandered off presumably to find her phone or fix her hair. The guys were standing around the foosball table and Izzy was lying on the couch with her book, legs dangling over the armrest.

Izzy had just finished the latest chapter when she heard Nathan's musing voice over the clanking of the game. "It's a shame more women don't commit crime. Why is that? I have to say, we did get lucky, though."

"How's that?" Curtis asked in a distracted way.

"We've got three blokes and three girls," he continued. "The maths work out perfectly. One for each of us, like with Noah's Arc. Which is lucky for you weird kid, 'cause I couldn't see the situation working out all that well for you otherwise. But I'd still like it if we had better odds, you know. Plus I was hopin' to go in for a kind of group scenario. Not that either of you would be invited."

Izzy sat up in the seat and stared over at them. "You do realize that I'm sitting right here, don't you?" she asked, waving her arm above her head.

Nathan just waved her off. "Men talking, sweetheart. No need to concern yourself."

Izzy collapsed back in her seat fuming and cursing the curly-haired idiot under her breath. She'd punch him in the nose if it wouldn't mess up that pretty face of his.

"There used to be four of us," a small, timid voice said. Izzy blinked. There was fear in that voice. And for some reason there was understanding in it as well, like he knew something she didn't. Izzy didn't like that feeling. She didn't like it one bit. But as usual, the tension that developed in the room was wiped away by another snarky quip.

"Ooh, that's too bad then," Nathan said, patting creepy kid on the shoulder with a pitying expression on his face. "I'm not being funny, but I think out of all of us you're drawing the short straw. I mean come on, guys. I'm talkin' about getting laid. So how are we going to do this man?

"Do what?" Curtis asked in confusion.

"Isn't it obvious?" Izzy called out from her seat. "How are you going to divide us up? Because you know all a girl looks for in a bloke is proximity."

"Exactly!" Nathan said, snapping his fingers and pointing at her. "You, runner-guy, you can have the one with the frizzy hair, I don't see me and her gettin' it on."

Curtis snorted. "'Cause she's beautiful?"

"No, because she'd be way too much effort. She looks seriously high maintenance, man. You'd have to treat her really well. But that one over there—"

"Izzy," the quiet one supplied.

"Again," she said, spreading her arms wide, "sitting right here."

"Yeah, Izzy. She's pretty enough. She may be all sarcastic and hostile and shit, but that just means she'll be a wild ride in the sack. You know what they say about gingers. All that fire." He shot a kiss in her direction.

Izzy shot him the middle finger. "Fuck. Off."

Nathan's face broke out in a wide grin. "See that behavior is borne out of sexual frustration. I'd be plenty happy to help you out with that kind of problem."

"I would rather shave my head."

"Whatever," he said waving her off. "If that one doesn't work out, there's always the other one. A couple of Bacardi Breezers and I'd reckon she's good to go. My mum always told me it's good to have more than one iron in the fire."

Izzy clapped her hands together and stood up. "On that note, I'm going to go get a drink."

As she walked out the rec room, she could still hear Nathan prattling on. "I bet she's one of those feminists. You know, the ones that don't shave their legs—"

Izzy kicked the door open hard, letting it slam behind her with a loud crash. Hopefully she'd manage to find some quiet. She shoved a pound fifty into the machine and grabbed the drink. When she rounded the corner, there was Alisha sitting on the sofa and fluffing her hair. Izzy groaned inwardly and sat down in the sofa opposite her, not bothering to say hello. Moments later she heard the rec room door slam a second time as all the guys filed out into the entry way.

Izzy rubbed at her eyes in frustration. She hated what was coming next. It was the small talk. Izzy hated small talk, people making all the trivial things in their life seem so important. You have a dog? Oh, that's nice. I have a cat. Who gives a shit?

After a few mind-numbing minutes, Alisha turned to Runner-boy Curtis and brought up his recent fall from grace. He's dealing crack, he's taking steroids, that sort of shit. Turns out he had just been caught with a little coke, that his 'profile' had earned him a first-class ticket to picking up litter.

Nathan wheeled up to him in a wheelchair he had found. "You let yourself down," he said in a mocking tone.

"Can you please shut up?" she groaned, throwing her empty drink can at him. "Just because you have the ability to speak doesn't mean that you should." There was anger and frustration behind Curtis's eyes that kept rising. Pretty soon he was going to snap.

All evidence pointed to the fact that this was not going to end well, but for some reason the twat kept going. Apparently there was no way to restrain his jackass commentary. "You let the kids down," Nathan continued with a sly smile. "You let your parents down."

Then all the sudden there's a small explosion as Curtis advances on Nathan. "Shut the fuck up!" he screamed. "All I ever did was train! You know nothing! I shouldn't even fucking be here!"

"You can't hit someone in a wheelchair!" Nathan exclaimed, laughing lightly.

Curtis shoved him, causing the wheelchair to roll backwards and hit the wall behind him. "I shouldn't even be here," he muttered. "It's not fucking fair." Izzy couldn't repress the derisive snort that forced its way out. "You got something to say?" Curtis asked, pointing at her.

"Yeah, yeah I do." She straightening up in her seat and fixed him under her stare. "Life's not fucking fair. We learned that much in primary school. You fucked up. Sure, maybe you didn't fuck up as bad as the rest of it, but that doesn't change anything. So stop bitching about your situation, because it sure as hell isn't helping you. As an added bonus, I won't have to listen to you any more."

"Fuck you," he replied angrily. "You don't know anything about me."

Izzy didn't react to the hostility and just stared at him evenly. "You're right, I don't. But ultimately none of that other shit matters. Something happened. It sucks. You're not the only one in that fucking boat, so why don't you stop drilling holes in it and start paddling instead."

He blinked and turned around. "Whatever," he spat, slamming his hand into the wall.

There was a bit of an awkward silence hanging in the room. Izzy bit her lip and began drumming her fingers against the edge of the seat. She had probably overstepped with the life advice, but it's not like she was wrong. The guy was a freaking parade of self-pity. Eventually it was Alisha who broke the ice. "You want to know what I got done for?" she asked, looking around the room for an audience. Izzy had a feeling that she lived her life in search of an audience.

What followed was something that Izzy didn't really care to remember. The gist of it was that she had been caught driving over the limit, but for some reason Alisha saw fit to throw in some very graphic demonstrations involving her mouth and a soda bottle. Cue drooling males.

Eventually she withdrew the bottle from her mouth and gave a flirtatious smile. "Now I don't know if this cop is gay or what, but he tells me I'm four times over the limit—"

Izzy stared at her through furrowed eyebrows. "Maybe he didn't take kindly to his breathalyzer being molested."

Alisha turned to glare at her, clearly not happy with the snarky commentary. "What about you," she said, nodding at Izzy with bitterness in her voice. "What'd you get done for."

Izzy shrugged and sat back in her chair. "I nicked some pills from a pharmacy."

"Damn," Nathan said, nodding slowly. "That's impressive. High-five man." She ignored the hand that was being waved in her face, but he was a persistent little bastard. "What's you take? Oxy? Vicodin? Ooh, no. I bet it was one of them studying pills that make you test well and shit. You strike me as one of them overachiever types."

"It was called Fycompa."

There was a short pause before Alisha finally asked, "What the fuck is that? Some kind of psychotropic shit?"

Izzy sighed and fiddled with the chain around her neck. In for a penny, in for a pound. Now she was stuck telling these gits her life story. "Fycompa is an anti-seizure medication. My brother has epilepsy and he felt an attack coming on. He was out of his meds so he called me to pick them up." She sighed and scratched at the back of her neck uncomfortably. "Turns out his guardians forgot to renew the fucking prescription. Things get bad when he has attacks like that—I mean like the death or paralysis bad, so I took them and ran. It's not like it was hard for them to find me, they had my name."

Curtis let out a low whistle. "Jesus. That's—that's—"

"Fucked up?" Izzy supplied. "The worst of it is that the bastards are trying to file a restraining order against me, saying that I'm a 'bad influence' or some shit like that."

"That's bullshit," Alisha said, smacking the gum she was chewing. "How can they file a restraining order to keep you away from your brother?"

"Well….the thing of it is that we're not actually related." She ran her hands down her face in frustration. "He's my foster brother. I used to be able to take care of him, but I aged out of the system a couple of years back. The family he's with—they don't take good care of him. I've threatened to report them to child services, so they were looking for a way to screw me over."

Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. She had just shared her pathetic little life story with a cabal of young fuck-ups. The lot of them were staring at her with something like pity in their eyes. Fuck that. She didn't want or need their pity. When life kicks you in the balls, you get up and keep playing. "So are we done here?" she asked in a sarcastic voice. "We've finished with the 'sharing circle' portion of this team building exercise. What's next? Trust falls? Do we hold hands and sing kumbaya?"

If anybody was planning on answering the question, they didn't have the opportunity to. There was a loud crashing noise as Kelly fell through the doors, careening down and hitting the floor. Her eyes were wide with fear, her makeup was smudged, and her breath was coming out in pants.

" 'E's goin' ta kill os!"

Izzy blinked and stared at the mess of a girl in front of her. What the actual fuck?

**So there's chapter 2. I really hope you liked it. If I made any mistakes with the slang and stuff, please let me know.**

**I hope that Izzy's character is developing well. She's sarcastic and rude and standoffish, but ultimately cares a lot. I'd love to know what you think. I wasn't completely satisfied with this chapter. I felt like there was too much dialogue and too little internal commentary/description, so I might go back and revise it.  
**

**Please review! Reviews feed the muse in my head. And she can suck down food like a linebacker. I also just really love reader input. I want to make this story as good as possible, and hearing from you guys is a big part of that. Love you guys!**


	3. Kill or Be Killed

**Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**A huge thank you to AlfieTimewolf, Imogen-xox, and Persephone Price for being unassailably awesome and helping me get through the birthing stages of this new story. And an extra thank you to Persephone Price for writing "Immaturity At Its Finest," which was so amazing it made me want to write a story of my own. And she's updating again, so definitely check it out! (If you haven't already).**

**Also, thank you Meep. I'm really happy you're enjoying the story.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

Chapter 3 – Kill or Be Killed

"Jesus Christ," Izzy muttered under her breath. She stood and moved to help Kelly up, but before she had the opportunity the girl had already scrambled back to her feet and ran to the door, frantically trying to make sure that it was closed and locking it, like there was something on the outside trying to get in. Under different circumstances she would have thought that the girl was in the throes of some bad acid trip, but only a complete fucking moron would do something like that while in the middle of their community service. Then again, maybe Kelly was a complete fucking moron.

Nathan cackled from his wheelchair and clapped theatrically. "Nice entrance," he said in a ridiculing tone, "very dramatic."

Izzy was about toss some snide comment at Nathan when Kelly cut her off. "The probation worker's gone mental. 'Es jost attacked me!" she shouted through panting breaths. "Somefin' really weird is 'appenin'. I'm hearin' these voices in me 'ead. It's like—it's like I can 'ear wot people are finkin'!"

Shit. Holy fucking shit. For a second Izzy felt like she was going completely batshit crazy, because she actually believed Kelly. But then at the same time it made her feel more sane, because after what had happened in the alleyway last night—

"Have you been sniffing glue?" Alisha asks with derision.

For the first time, Kelly simply ignored an insult that was thrown at her and continued. "The storm, the lightening! I don't know, it's just done somefin' to os!"

"Okay," Nathan said, wheeling towards her, "if you can hear our thoughts, what am I thinking right now?"

"You fink it's bullshit!" she shouted back in agitation.

"Of course I think it's bullshit!" he returns through a snort of laughter. "You don't need to be a mind reader to know that!"

Kelly looked Nathan up and down in confusion. "Why are you in a wheelchair?" she demanded.

He gave her a sad, innocent-looking expression. "It was the storm! The tingling sensation in my anus spread—"

"He's in the wheelchair because he's a twat," Izzy said, pushing herself off the wall she was leaning against and walking towards the rest of the group.

"Oi," Nathan said, snapping at her. "That's very hurtful. I do have feelings."

"Wait a second," Curtis said, shaking his head in confusion and holding his hand in the air like he was calling a time-out out. "What do you mean the probation worker attacked you?"

"This does sound like complete shit," Alisha added, rolling her eyes.

Kelly was growing more and more distressed with each passing second. "I'm tellin' the troof!" she exclaimed, looking frantically between all of them to find some sort of support. " 'Es out there and 'e chased me!"

Izzy folded her arms across her chest and moving to stand next to Kelly. "Why would she make up something like this?" she asked, looking around the room. "What possible gain could she get from it? And that probation worker had some serious anger management issues."

"Yeah, he was a dick," Alisha spat out, still lounging comfortably in her seat. "Big fucking surprise there. But she says she can hear people's thoughts? Because of some fucking lightening? That's bullshit."

"She's not the only one affected by the lightening," Izzy said, making everybody's eyes snap to her. Kelly's face looked more than a little bit relieved at her words.

"Seriously?" Nathan demanded through poorly concealed laughter. "This keeps getting better and better! I've got two crazies in one group! Tell me," he said pointing between her and Kelly, "have your periods synced up as well?"

This guy seriously had to be the biggest fucking tool on the entire planet. Izzy planted a foot on the base of his wheelchair and pushed hard, sending him flying backwards into a wall. "I'm serious," she said in a steady voice, trying her best to conceal her anxiety. "I was on my way home yesterday and a couple of pricks attacked me." She pushed up the sleeves of her jumpsuit to show them her bruised wrists. "They slammed my head into the wall and were starting to drag me off when there was this sort of explosion, only it came from me. It threw them against a wall and I got away."

"This is fucking brilliant!" Nathan exclaimed. "You guys should pair up and fight crime or some shit like that. That would make for some top notch programming."

"Something's happened to me, too," a small voice said from the corner. Izzy turned to see the weird kid whose name she hadn't gotten yet. She had forgotten about him. Then again, it was pretty easy to do so with him hiding off in a corner.

"Ah, did you pop your cherry?" Nathan demanded in a sarcastic tone. "We're all very happy for you mate."

"Are you genetically incapable of shutting the fuck up?" Izzy shouted angrily. She looked at Twitchy and gestured for him to continue. It's not like this situation could get any more crazy than it already was.

"When we were in the locker room," he continued hesitantly, "I turned invisible. I turned invisible."

She stood corrected. Welcome to the fucking madhouse. But it's not like she could refute him or anything. Her story was just as ridiculous sounding as his was.

"Just so I get this right," Curtis said in a voice colored with disbelief, "she's psychic, she can make some bullshit force field type things, and you can turn invisible? That seems likely."

"Yeah," Nathan added, shifting in his chair and pointing at Twitchy. "Did anyone witness this miraculous disappearance?"

"You will all there," Twitchy replied, looking around hopefully, trying to find someone to corroborate his story. "I was standing right there. You couldn't see me."

"Alright," Nathan said, wheeling towards where Twitchy was standing. "Go on then. Do it. Turn invisible."

Twitchy looked up and closed his eyes, like he was focusing really hard on something. Izzy could see the muscles in his neck straining and he was making this sort of groaning noise. "For fuck's sake," she muttered under breath. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. There was no miraculous display. Twitchy just looked like he was severely constipated.

"Oh my God!" Nathan exclaimed in a shocked voice. "He's disappeared!"

Izzy let out a long sigh, watching Nathan go through his little charade. It would have been entertaining if the entire situation wasn't so serious, but for a guy like him she was pretty sure that even life and death wouldn't fall under the purview of 'serious'. Nathan ended his gag by throwing a soda can at Twitchy's head and declaring "You're invisible!"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Izzy shouted at him. "This is not some fucking joke! Do you have a off-switch or something?"

" 'Fraid not, love. I go all night long." He wheeled around to face the group with this infuriatingly smug look on his face. Izzy felt her fingers twitch as she fought the urge to smack it right off. "You three are hilarious, really," he said moving towards the door, "keep taking that medication."

Kelly ran out in front of him and grabbed the arms of the wheelchair, halting him in his path. "Don't go out there, 'e will _kill _you!"

Nathan smirked up at her with that same look of derision. "Of course he will, 'cause he's such a badass."

"What's the possible upside of going out there?" Izzy asked, moving herself between the rest of the group and the door. "Hell, I don't know if this is a wind-up or not, but I'd rather not die on the off chance that it isn't."

"They're tellin' the truth!" another voice shouted out. Izzy looked past the curly-haired prick to see Curtis standing there, looking seriously freaked out. One minute he was joking and laughing like the rest of them, but now he was clammy, shaking, and taking long, heavy breaths. It was the way she used to look after the panic attacks she had when she was younger.

"What's this now," Nathan said, spinning around to look at him. "Is crazy contagious? So the probation worker's going to kill us. And you know this how? I suppose you're psychic now too."

Curtis looked around at everyone with an expression of terror. "All this, it's already happened once. I opened the door. The probation worker he attacked you," he said gesturing at Izzy. "He had this—this metal pole thing and he swung it at you, but it just—didn't hit you, like there was something in the way. And then you," he said turning to Kelly, "he killed you. You were right there. You were dead. Everything froze. You were all just standing there. Time went backwards."

"What are you sayin', that you turned back time?" Alisha asked in a skeptical voice.

"This just keeps getting better by the second," Nathan said, finally climbing out of that bloody wheelchair and making his way towards the door.

"Everything happened again!" Curtis continued. "It was exactly the same. Man, I'm telling you don't open that door!"

But Nathan ignored him. "Excuse me, love," he said, roughly pushing Izzy out of the way and sending her flying into the wall behind her. He had the stupidest expression on his face, ironically enough it looked like one that should belong to a small child stealing some pick n' mix. Izzy was about to shout at him, but before she had the chance, that pleased smile crumpled into wide-eyed fear. He let out a strangled yelp and suddenly shut the door, locking it with fumbling hands.

"He's right!" he cried in a panicked voice. "The probation worker's gone mental!" All the sudden there was a loud crashing noise and the probation worker through himself against the door. He let out another undignified shriek and grabbed Izzy's hand, yanking her after him, away from the door and towards the rest of the group.

The lot of them stood there, frozen, while the probation worker threw himself against the door over and over again. Izzy couldn't move. There was a cold terror that was seeping its way into the marrow of her bones. She had been through plenty of terrifying experiences in her life, but this one left the others in the dust. Which was odd, considering. She could feel the breaths coming faster and faster. Oh, no. She could not have a panic attack. It had been years since the last one and this shit could not start again now.

She was brought back by a sharp pain in her right hand. She looked down to see that Nathan still had a hold on it, and he was crushing it in his. "Get the fuck off," she muttered, wrenching it away and massaging it to stop the pain. She was partially aware of someone saying that they should call the police. A bunch of fucking geniuses they were, being attacked and only just now thinking of calling the cops.

"He took our phones," Twitchy said, destroying the tiny little bubble of hope that had formed in her chest. "He's got all our phones."

They were fucked. Absolutely and irrevocably fucked. They were fucked six ways from Sunday. The banging of him against the door was beginning to feel like it was her heartbeat. Harsh, loud, and violent. Until all of the sudden it just wasn't there any more. "It's stopped," somebody said in a weak voice.

There was a dead silence that to Izzy felt almost more terrifying than the banging. "This is the part of the horror film when everybody let's down their guard right before they die," she muttered under her breath.

"Oh, that's very helpful," Nathan spat, turning to face her. "Way to put us all at ease here!"

"You dickhead!" Alisha yelled, rounding on Kelly. "Why'd ya come back here? You should have gone for help!"

"Uh, wot do you know, bitch," Kelly shouted.

Alisha rolled her eyes again. "Shut up, you chav."

"Ya know if ya call me chav one more time," she retorted jabbing her finger at Alisha, "I'll kick ya so 'ard in the cunt, your mum'll feel it." Izzy had to repress an inappropriately timed snort of laughter as she saw Alisha backing away in fear.

"Her mum'll feel it?" Nathan added to the ridiculous exchange, fulfilling his apparent need to hear the sound of his own voice. "How does that work, exactly?

" 'E tried ta kill me!" Kelly said, looking around at all of them. "I came back to warn yous lot and I coulda left ya! I'm sick o' every single one of ya judgin' me so jost fuck off!"

"We're all very grateful for you coming back," Izzy broke in, trying to put an end to the stupidity. She was using the same voice she did when she tried to calm down her little brother, because apparently these idiots needed a fucking nanny. "Now, can we stop this shit and sort out our fucking priorities. There is a fucking madman. With a weapon. Who's trying to kill us," she said slowly, ticking off fingers as she presented her points. "Maybe we should stop fighting and get the fuck out of here. Hm? Does that sound good to anyone?"

"Yeah," Nathan said, nodding his head. "Yeah, out the back way."

They all started sprinting down the hallway. Izzy loved to run—it made her feel alone, but not in that lonely way, in that calm, peaceful way—but she found that running for her life didn't give her that same sort of clarity. In fact, it kind of sucked. She couldn't help looking over her shoulder as she rounded the corner. Nathan was right behind her. They were both moving fast. But suddenly, just around that corner, as she hit a patch of liquid that sent her skidding forward. Somehow she managed to retain her balance, but Nathan wasn't so lucky. He collapsed to the floor in a puddle of something that was definitely not water.

"Is that blood?" Kelly demanded anxiously.

Nathan hauled himself to his feet, slipping a few times in the process. "Aw, fuck! Jesus Christ! Fucking get it off me!" He started frantically wiping the blood on his jumpsuit, like it was acid burning his skin.

Izzy felt like she was in a trance, staring at the floor. She had seen that much blood before—only once before—but it had been enough for her to know what it meant. Somebody was dead.

"Oi, are you a'right?" a far-away voice asked her. "Are you 'avin' a fit or somefin'?"

"No," Izzy said, turning to face Kelly and blinking until the fog left her eyes, "no, I'm fine."

Kelly just raised her eyebrows and looked down at Izzy's right hand. Following her gaze, she saw that it was shaking. Quickly, she balled it up into a fist, forcing it to stay still. "I'm fine," she said again in a firmer voice. If Izzy was being honest, it was more to convince herself rather than Kelly. Her gaze shifted to look up at the locker. There was more blood dripping through the vents at the top. She pulled the sleeve of her jumpsuit down so it covered her fingers and took a few hesitant steps forward, taking hold of the latch. Inhaling deeply, she wrenched the locker door open and backed away quickly. She was the only one who didn't scream when the body fell forward because she was the only one who was already certain of what was in there.

It was Wannabe. A wave of nausea hit her stomach as she realized that she hadn't even bothered to learn his name. And now he was dead.

"I did wonder what had happened to him," Nathan said in an uncharacteristically meek voice. She glanced back at him. His face was caught in a sort of terrified grimace, the blood on his hands long forgotten.

"He's going to kill us," Alisha said weakly. She was on the verge of tears.

"Turn back time," Nathan demanded, looking at Curtis. "Stop this from happening!"

"I don't know how it works!" Izzy would have been pissed, but she could hear the intense regret in his voice.

"Oh, that's great!" Nathan shot back. "That's really useful!"

"Look," Izzy said, finally managing to jolt herself back into conscious thought. "Let's not panic—"

"Easier said than done, love!" Nathan spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Izzy closed her eyes drove her hands into her hair and started pulling at it, trying to get the pain to help her focus on what was going on, to come up with some sort of ridiculous plan to fix all this, but her brain was failing her. It was blank. There was fucking nothing there, just a brick wall that her mind kept masochistically running into over and over again. She could feel her eyes darting back and forth under her eyelids like she was trying to read a book. She must look like a complete mental case. Fuck it, on some level she already was a mental case. And she was panicking.

She was broken out of her reverie by another panicked shriek. Whirling around, she found herself staring at Curtis and Alisha. He was grabbing her arm and looked like he was in some hypnotic trance or something.

"I've got to have sex with you right now!" he said as Alisha struggled against him. "You're so beautiful. Let's go! Let's do it right now, raw!"

"Get off me, you freak!" she shouted, shoving him away.

"What?" he said, looking around at all of them with a face colored by confusion.

Alisha made a move to hit him, an intense look of disgust on her face, but he stopped her, grabbing hold of her wrist. Once he did, the entire thing started all over again. "You're so hot!" he says, reaching down to unzip his trousers. "I'm going to bone you! I'm going to shag you senseless!"

As soon as Alisha forces him off of her a second time, he had that same stupid, confused expression. "What did I do?"

"Uh, ya said you was gonna shag 'er," Kelly said bluntly.

"And you were getting your chap out," Nathan added, gesturing at Curtis's nether region.

Izzy scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. "You were quite rapey, actually."

Curtis looked around at them all, baffled and more than a little bit embarrassed. "Shut up," he said self-consciously, moving to zip up his trousers.

"It was when you were touching her," Twitchy observed, in his quiet, creepy voice.

Alisha looked seriously panicked at that point. She stared down at her shaking hands like they didn't belong to her, like some foreign entity had latched itself to them. She moved suddenly and touched Twitchy on the neck.

This time Izzy had a good look at his face. She could see his pupils dilate and his blood vessels start to throb against the surface of his skin. "I'm so hard for you," he said in a tone that almost sounded angry. "I want to rip off your clothes and piss on your tits!"

Alisha backed away, holding her hands up, afraid of them. "What is happening to me?"

Izzy blinked and took a few steps away from the monument to sexual deviancy she found herself standing next to. That boy needed some serious therapy. Or a lobotomy. Or possibly even castration. "You sick bastard!" Nathan shouted, voicing her thoughts.

"Seriously," she muttered in agreement, making eye contact with him. Still looking at her, he raised his eyebrows and shook his head, mouthing the words 'what the hell'. All she could do was shrug and mouth 'fuck if I know' in response.

Before anyone else had a chance to comment, the wall of glass behind them shattered, sending shards flying towards them as the probation worker crashes through. He landed on the broken glass, grunting like some sort of deranged, blood-thirsty animal. When he raised his head from the ground, she saw his eyes and it felt like time froze. They were nothing from this world. All she saw in them was rage and hate and the desire to kill. To kill her.

Finally managing to make her feet move, she stumbled backwards, falling on the floor and feeling those tiny pieces of glass cutting into her hands. The probation worker managed to grab hold of her foot, trying to pull her towards her. The scream that erupted from her mouth sounded far away, like it didn't belong to her. She kicked and kicked and then there was someone behind her, yanking her up to her feet.

"GET OFF!" she shrieked, and suddenly she felt that pressure under her skin building again. The probation worker was thrown off of her and she was pulled backwards by whoever had their hands under her arms. She looked up to see Nathan standing over her with a panicked look on his face. He had tried to save her. Well that was certainly an unexpected development.

Izzy looked back at the probation worker, who was standing up again, but all the sudden Kelly appeared out of nowhere with a can of paint, smashing it over his head. It connected with a massive crack, causing him to crumple to the ground. Izzy scrambled to her feet and backed away till she was standing next to Nathan, as if being further away from the body would somehow disassociate her with what had just happened.

"What did you do?" Nathan whispered. Kelly just opened her mouth, and for once she really didn't have anything to say.

"Is he dead?" Alisha asked tentatively.

"Well, I'm no expert," Nathan responded, "but you see the way the back of his head is caved in like that?"

Suddenly the probation worker opened his eyes again, some unholy scream erupted from his mouth. He grabbed hold of Kelly's foot like he had done to herself seconds earlier. She screamed as well, stamping on his head again and again, causing this disgusting squelching noise than made Izzy want to vomit. When she finally stopped crushing his skull, she turned away with fear and self-loathing etched into her expression.

"Yep," Nathan said, moving his hands into his hair, "that'll do it."

Alisha stared at Kelly, holding her hand to her mouth in shock. "You killed our probation worker!"

Nathan started shaking his head almost pathologically. "This is very, very not good."

All Izzy could do was stare down at the body of probation worker with unblinking eyes. Or should she call it a corpse? FUCK. It was a fucking corpse. The corpse of a person she had just watched die. No, he hadn't just died. He had been fucking murdered. A murder that she was complicit in. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"We should call the police," Curtis said in a voice that sounded vaguely hopeful. "It was self-defense."

"Yeah," Alisha agreed. "Yeah, yeah, he's right. We show them the dead boy in the locker, they'll do some CSI shit and figure it all out."

Izzy felt her head nodding in agreement, but in reality she was in too much of a haze to really know what was going on. She wasn't looking at the bodies anymore, she was staring at the blood, all the blood. It was red and terrible and smelled like copper and rust. The smell was so strong she could taste it on her tongue, and it made her want to rip it out.

"They won't believe os!" Kelly cried, not being swayed by the others.

"We tell them the truth," she heard Curtis say, "we stick to our story!"

"And wot's our story?" Kelly demanded angrily, waving her arms at Curtis like she was having a fit. "That 'e can turn invisible n' you can turn back time? It doesn't matter wot we tell 'em, they say that we're lyin'! They say we killed 'em bof! Noone's gonna believe ya, not anymore!"

"She's right," Nathan said, nodding his head. "I mean, it's out word versus—he can't even talk anymore! There's no way they'll believe some upstanding pillar of the community went on a psychotic rampage! Who's going to believe a bunch of fuckups like us?" He started snapping his fingers in front of her face. "Hey, Ginger! You want to join us? We've got a bit of a situation goin' on."

Izzy blinked and looked at them all. "I think we should call the police," she said in a dead voice.

"For fock's sake!" Kelly screamed. "We can't fockin' do that!"

"If there's no body, there's no crime," Twitchy says in a low voice. "We should bury them under the flyover."

Alisha shook her head sending her frizzy curls flying about. "How are we goin' to do that someone's goin' to see us."

"No, no, no, no," Nathan stammered, "we just give 'em a little clean-up. We put 'em in those wheelchairs, we wheel them up there, and if anybody sees us we're just a bunch of young offenders takin' a couple of specials for a walk in the sunshine!"

The rest of it was a bit like she was on autopilot, pushing those bodies up the hill like some kid would push their gran. Once she got out of the room with all the blood she could think again, her brain was working. And her brain was telling her that her life was now officially fucked up beyond all recognition. She had touched everything. Her fingerprints were everywhere. At this point she had no choice but to go along with this shit plan, because the alternative at this point was probably life in prison.

Over the past two days she had been struck by lightening, sexually assaulted, had gotten a fucking superpower, and now she was an accomplice to murder. "This can not be my life," she muttered, jamming her shovel deep into the dirt.

"I'm afraid so, love," Nathan said, throwing his shovel on the ground dramatically. He leaned back, stretching and groaned. "I'm pretty sure that this breaches the terms of my ASBO."

"Yeah, no shit," Izzy spat back at him, driving her shovel into the dirt again.

"Why so touchy love?"

"I don't know," she retorted angrily, hurling her shovel at his feet, "maybe I'm PMSing. Maybe I'm hungry. Maybe I'm tired. Or maybe—just maybe—I'm touchy because I am currently in the process of burying two fucking corpses!"

They all stepped back and wheeled the bodies forward. Tony and Gary, those were their names. She was about to bury them, make them disappear and abandon their families, their friends. The very least she could do was know their names before she covered them in dirt.

"We don't tell anyone about this, yeah?" Kelly said in an authoritative tone. "About the storm or what it did to os or anyfing."

"We're about to bury our probation worker," Nathan said, his voice oddly serious. "This isn't a time when we want to draw any attention to ourselves." Izzy's head snapped around to look at Nathan. There was a sort of clear, level-headed rationality in what he said that she really hadn't expected from him. Maybe he was only 95% twat, and somewhere deep down a slightly functional human being was hiding away.

She took a deep breath and turned to the others. "At this point I really don't see any other options, so fuck it. I'm in."

"I don't want anyone to know," Alisha shot back bitterly. "I can not be a freak."

They all turned to Curtis who was standing there, completely quiet. His jaw was set in some form of defiance. It made Izzy's stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot.

In an almost ridiculous twist of fate, it was Nathan who tried to reason with him. "There's no goin' back now man, you're as screwed as the rest of us. Hell, you're black AND famous, you're probably more screwed!"

"I shouldn't even be here!" he spat back.

They all turned back to the grave and start covering the bodies. Izzy repressed the compulsion to vomit when she tossed dirt over their faces.

"So hold on!" Nathan suddenly interjected. "All of you has some kind of special power. Everyone can do something except me. _He_ can do something," he said pointing at Twitchy, "_he_ can do something and I can't! That's ridiculous! Look at him! How does that make any sense!"

"Maybe you can do something," Twitchy mumbled, "you just don't know what it is yet."

"Yeah!" Nathan said with a silly smile crossing over his face. "Like, maybe I can't feel pain."

Kelly slapped him over the head. "Did ya feel that?"

"Jesus! Stop hitting me!"

"Maybe you're just a super-twat," Izzy supplied bitterly. "You can take the art form of twat-itude to epic proportions."

"Ha, ha," Nathan retorted, "you're a fucking riot, aren't you?"

Izzy paused and pushed the sweaty hair out of her eyes. She stared at Nathan for a moment while he kept shoveling dirt. When he noticed her looking at him, he stopped as well, standing straight and leaning on the shovel for support.

"What is it now, Ginger?"

"N-nothing," she said self-consciously. "It's just that I should probably thank you for trying to save my life and all back there."

He shrugged nonchalantly and smirked. "Anything for a damsel in distress."

Izzy bristled slightly at being referred to as a damsel, but that wasn't exactly the time for indignation. "Right," she mumbled, fiddling with her locket again. "So….thanks, I guess."

"I can think of one or two ways you could thank me," he replied, winking at her. "Very…entertaining and spirited ways."

Izzy narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? Is there even a kernel of shame anywhere in that maladjusted, sex-fueled brain of yours." He just smirked and shrugged his shoulders. She let out a derisive snort of laughter and shook her head. 'I'll bake you a fucking cake. How about that?"

"Is that a euphemism?"

Izzy gritted her teeth. "No, it's not a fucking euphemism."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Make it an Italian cream."

Not another word passed between them until they finished covering the bodies. Curtis and Twitchy, whose name was apparently Simon, took the wheelchairs back to the community center. One by one they left until Izzy was alone, staring down at the upturned dirt. "I'm sorry," she whispered under her breath before tearing her eyes away and jogging down the hill after the others.

By the time she had gotten back to the changing rooms, the others had already left. Sighing, she pulled off her jumpsuit and grabbed her street clothes, but before she pulled them on she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She turned slightly so she could see the tattoos, one at each of her shoulder blades. On the left there were the seven tick marks. When she first got it, when she was fifteen, there had only been four but she had had to add to it since. On the right there was the lotus, she had gotten that one when she turned eighteen. And then there was the one on her right wrist, the triskele. That was the first one, the one she got when she was only fourteen with that ridiculous fake ID of hers. In a way those tattoos were her biography, they all had there special meaning to her. After today, she would be needing to add another.

**OK, there it is. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. There's just so much dialogue and plot going on that it kind of made my head spin while writing it, but that's how you're supposed to feel, right? I think it came out decently, though (fingers crossed).**

**I hope this chapter didn't come across as excessively depressing or whatever. I swear it'll get funnier in the next few chapters when there's not all the murdering going on. And I wanted to hint at Izzy's past a bit in a mysterious, roundabout way. It's not a very happy one, which is part of why she comes off as so hostile and bitter.**

**Now that you all have a better look at her power, what do you think it is? Why do you think she got that particular power?**

**Anywho, please review. It makes my day. Sincerely, **

**It Belongs In A Museum**


	4. Is It Over?

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Lady Shagging Godiva (love the name), Persephone Price, AlfieTimewolf, VampireGleekxx, and shinelikegold for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

Chapter 4 – Is It Over?

Fucking ow. That was the only thought running through Izzy's head when her alarm clock jarred her into consciousness. Her head was throbbing in time which the harsh beeps coming from the clock next to her head, her mouth felt sticky and dry, and her stomach was twisted with nausea. That beeping was so loud, louder than it usually seemed, and it was making her head ache, but she just couldn't make herself move from that bed. Eventually she managed to roll to the edge of the mattress and rip the cord out of the wall socket, throwing it across the room with a loud crash. Great. Now she needed to buy a new fucking clock. As if she wasn't broke enought to begin with.

Sitting up, Izzy rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and slapped her cheeks to wake herself up. Massaging her temples, she tried to go over the events of the previous evening. The events from the latter part of the evening were swallowed up in a black hole of memory which could probably be attributed to the empty handle of vodka that was lying on the ground next to the crappy card table where she ate her meals. For once she wished that the alcohol had made her lose more memory. She had bought that liquor on her way home so that she could forget, so that, even for a little while, she could stop visualizing it, but it hadn't worked. When she closed her eyes she could still see the blood.

Feeling a sudden lurch in her stomach, she raced towards the bin. Grabbing hold of the sides, she leaned over it and retched but nothing came out. No wonder she was so fucking hungover. She hadn't eaten anything last night. Small tears formed at the corners of her eyes as her stomach twisted and contracted, sending pains shooting through her abdomen over and over again.

"Fuck," she mumbled under her breath, spitting the foul taste out of her mouth. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet and moved to her dresser, searching around frantically for that bottle of Advil. While doing so, she caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and bloodshot and her makeup from the previous day had smudged horribly, making her look like a raccoon. She was a mess.

She quickly cleaned herself up, trying her best to make herself look pristine. Today of all days, she couldn't look like a mess. After what had happened yesterday she couldn't afford to let herself look the least bit guilty. No smeared makeup, no disheveled hair, and certainly no tortured expressions. A half hour later she was staring in the mirror at perfectly put-together version of herself. Her hair was brushed back into a neat ponytail, her eyes were rimmed in ligh mascara, and all the bruises and abrasions from the past few days were successfully concealed with a makeup, giving her a fresh-faced, youthful, and innocent appearence that she hadn't even had when she was a kid. Hell, she looked better than she usually did. She put on a wide smile. It looked genuine. Over the years she had gotten good at smiling and pretending nothing was wrong. Usually it was a skill she didn't wish she had had to develop, but today she was grateful for it.

As she turned to leave her crap-heap of a flat, she noticed a tin on the table. It had a note taped to it that read 'to give to twat'. She opened up to find a Victoria sponge inside, with the work 'Thanks' crudely carved into it. Fuck, that was right. She had promised Nathan cake. Quickly grabbing her bag and that tin, she made her way out the door.

By the time Izzy made it to the community center, her head still felt like it was going to explode. She wasn't all that early this time, but when she made her way to the vending machine, she could hear the same snores as she did the day before. Making her way back up the stairs, she found Nathan lying there in a position probably even less flattering than the one she had found him in yesterday. For some reason she found it oddly adorable. While he was asleep he looked like an innocent little kid. That is, of course, until he spoke.

Izzy squatted down next to him. "Nathan," she said in a quiet voice. She pulled a pen out of her bag and stuck it in his ear. He mumbled something incoherent and started swatting at his ear. Izzy repressed a small giggle and started poking his nose, making him snort awkwardly. She leaned in close to his ear. "WAKE UP!"

"JESUS!" he screamed, jumping in his bed, and making her fall backwards. He looked around wildly, like he was searching for an invisible attacker, until his eyes fell on Izzy, who had collapsed on her back laughing. "Stop _doing_ that! And stop fucking laughing! It's not fucking funny!"

"You should have seen the look on your face," she choked out through sobs of laughter. "It looked like you were about to piss yourself." She scooted backwards until her back met the railing, her shoulders still shaking.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he groaned, collapsing back on his pillow. "You really need to start knocking or something. I could be having a wank in here and I don't need you waltzing in an interrupting me. That shit totally messes with my process. I get the groove going and then boom. You walk in with that same disapproving look my mum gives me. No thank you."

"Really?" Izzy asked, wrinkling her nose at him. "That's your go-to for invasion of privacy? That I would interrupt you having a wank?"

"Well statistically speaking that's one of the more likely scenarios," he said, looking bizarrely pleased with himself.

"Those must be some seriously traumatized Superman sheets," she muttered, rolling her eyes theatrically. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She looked around Nathan's 'room'. It was probably the standard degree of disgusting for a bloke's room: soiled sheets, errant pizza crusts, laundry all over the place, and one particularly crusty sock whose purpose she really didn't want to think about. "Well if you want people to knock," she said, turning back to him, "you should probably consider getting a door. I hear those play a pretty fundamental role in the maintenance of one's privacy."

Nathan pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around. "Hm, how about that." He turned back to her and gave her a strange look. "You okay, love? You're looking a bit peaky."

"You mean other than the fact that I'm complicit in a murder?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. "I may or may not be suffering from the worst hangover of my life."

"Ha, nice," Nathan said through a smirk.

"Not really," she muttered. "It feels kind of like someone's shoved an AM radio into my head." Izzy sat there for a while and idly picked at her fingernails. "Are you nervous? About today, I mean. Are you afraid someone will find out?"

"Nah, man," he said, standing up and stretching noisily. "It's like the perverted virgin said. No body, no crime. We just go about our business like always. Anybody asks us if we've seen anything, we say no. We're just a bunch of fuckups anyway. Nobody's going to think we killed our probation worker."

Izzy cleared her throat and pulled herself to her feet. "Yeah you're probably right." She sighed and pulled nervously at her ponytail. "Anyway, I came to give you this," she said, pulling the cake tin out of her bag and tossing it at his feet.

Nathan looked down at the tin, reading the note was still attached to the lid. "That's nice, Ginger. Real nice. I save your life and you call me a twat." He placed his hand over is heart and looked at her with wide, expressive eyes. "Words hurt, you know. I might even need some therapy to work through this massive emotional trauma."

"Whatever, man," she replied, shrugging her shoulders and grabbing her bag from the ground. "I promised cake, and there's your fucking cake. And you didn't save my life. It was that bullshit power of mine."

"Well, yeah," he said planting his hands on his hips, "but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

"Hence, the cake," she said waving vaguely in his direction. "Anyway, the others will probably be here in about a half hour. If you don't want them to know you're a homeless squatter who takes hobo showers in the sink, I suggest you make yourself decent. Though I doubt that's possible in your case."

She turned and climbed back down the stairs and headed for the doors to the outside. "Oi, they have showers here you know!" he shouted after her. There was a short pause. "And I asked for a fucking Italian cream!"

Izzy snorted lightly and pushed her way outside. The guy was a total dickhead, but all of his mindless prattle and lewd remarks did have a way of making you forget about all the other stuff going on, which was something that she could really use right now. She pushed open the door and walked out to the edge of the patio and leaned on the railing, staring out over the water. Groaning, she rubbed at her temples again. Her head still ached and her stomach was still a twisted mess, and she couldn't tell if it was from the hangover or from her persistent, gnawing anxieties.

In Izzy's experience, there was one thing that could sort out that sort out that sort of disgusting, sick feeling. She reached down into her bag and pulled out her lighter and the joint in there she had stashed for an occasion like this. She had started smoking it when she was fifteen, to stave off those panic attacks, so it should serve her quite well under these circumstances. It wasn't like she used it habitually or anything, but if it stopped her from hyperventilating to the point where she passed out, she was all for it. It was a hell of a lot better than those pills the kid-shrink had given her that made her feel like she wanted to vomit all the time. Lighting it, she brought it to her lips and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes as the smoke filled her lungs and waited for the calm to start.

Letting her mind float, she stared at the waves and listened to them lapping against the concrete barrier. It was oddly hypnotic, a bit like a lullaby. Or maybe the weed was just starting to kick in.

"Are you awright?" asked a voice from somewhere near her.

Glancing over her shoulder, Izzy saw Kelly standing there with a concerned expression on her face. It was strange that this girl that she barely knew and who she had been fairly rude to seemed to actually care about her wellbeing. Izzy wasn't used to that kind of thing. In her general experience, most people were just biding their time until they found the ideal opportunity to fuck you over, but for some reason Kelly just didn't seem to fit within the confines of that sort of generalization. She offered up what she hoped was a convincing smile. "I'm fine. Peaches and cream." She held out the joint as a sort of offering of friendship, or at least as an indication of a truce or something, and Kelly stepped forward and took it.

"You sure about tha?" the other girl asked, taking a long drag. " 'Cos yesterday in the locka room you looked dead weird. Like you was 'avin' a fit or somefin'."

Izzy bit her lip and smiled genuinely now. She appreciated that sort of frankness in a person. It was a lot better than the bullshit platitudes that most people spoonfeed you. "You don't varnish your opinion, do you?"

"Wha?"

Izzy pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "Nothing, nothing." Kelly leaned her back against the railing and looked at her with an expression that was simultaneously sympathetic, expectant, and a little bit pissed off. Izzy sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Look, I just don't like blood, okay," she said, grabbing hold of the joint and inhaling deeply. "It freaks me out, makes me sick."

"Why?"

Izzy didn't want to answer that question. Hell, she didn't even like to think about the answer to that question. It took her back to that bad place, the one she kept trying to forget, but the universe kept throwing in her face. Kelly narrowed her eyes and stared hard at Izzy, studying her face. "You said yous was in fosta' care," the Kelly asked quietly. "Wha' 'appened to your parents."

Izzy blinked. How had Kelly known that she was thinking about her mum? That's right. She was a fucking mind-reader. She probably knew half of the story already. There was no fucking point in hiding anything from her. "I never knew my dad. He fucked off somewhere before I was born."

"An' your mum?"

Sighing, Izzy stared out at the water and ran her thumb over the triskele tattoo on her wrist over and over again. "She died."

" 'Ow did she die?"

Tearing her eyes away from the water, Izzy looked back to the girl standing next to her. There was real sympathy on her face, real concern. It was an oddly maternal look, like she wanted to take care of you. "The bad way," was all Izzy could say, but Kelly nodded in understanding. Apparently her power let her fill in the gaps. Izzy turned around and leaned her back against the railing, matching Kelly's pose. "Look, I don't want your fucking pity. And I don't want theirs. So could you do me a favor and just keep it to yourself. Just—just leave it, okay?"

"It's not like I give a shit," Kelly grunted, folding her arms over her chest and becoming very defensive. "It's none o' their focking business, an' it's not like I wanted to know. It's dis stupid powa, man. I 'eard your thoughts yesterday, an' you seemed really upset, so I figured if ya wanna talk about it…."

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows and looked over at Kelly. "Thanks," she said in a hesitant voice. She had misjudged Kelly. Sure it was an easy thing to do with, all the overt hostility and hitting and the yelling, but it turned out that she was actually sort of…..nice? It sounded ridiculous and counterintuitive, but there it was. "Hey, Kelly," she said quietly, "I should probably apologize to you. For, you know, calling you a chav. Or thinking it at least. So, I'm sorry."

Kelly shifted uncomfortably. "Thanks."

"Just so you know," Izzy continued, "I might think something like that again. Or maybe even say it out loud. I know I can be kind of a bitch, but until then—" she held out her hand "—I'm Izzy. It's nice to meet you."

For a moment Kelly stared at the hand like she was trying to determine whether or not it was diseased, but eventually she took it and gave it a firm shake. It wasn't necessarily a friendship, but it was a start.

Soon enough all of the other delinquents managed to make their way to the community center and changed into their jumpsuits. There was a bit of standing around, a few awkward silences—most of which took place between Nathan's nonsensical and obscene rants—and there was a lot of unvoiced anxiety. It was like they were waiting for something big to burst through those front doors, either their downfall or their salvation. Izzy wondered what it would look like. Would it be some James Bond villain? A pudgy old cop? Miss Marple? As the clock continued to tick, she began to wonder if any body was going to show up—if anyone had even noticed that they were gone. That possibility should have made her sigh with relief, but instead it just made her sad.

About an hour after their work was supposed to start, a small, pale, dark-haired woman with a clipboard appeared and called them all into the main hall. Great. The key to her fate lay with a low-level bureaucrat and whatever papers she had attached to that fucking clipboard. At least it wasn't the police.

"What's going on?" Izzy asked in her most confused-sounding voice as the lot of them filed in through the door. "What happened to that other guy?"

The woman didn't respond, just giving her a sad look as they lined up in front of her. "Alright," she said, grasping the clipboard so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. "There's been a bit of an incident. Gary and my colleague Tony have both been reported missing." The woman paused for a moment, clearly studying all of their reactions, so Izzy assembled her features into an expression that demonstrated both shock and confusion. "Their families are very worried about them. Have you seen anything unusual, anything at all?"

Izzy was about to open her mouth to respond in the negative, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Nathan's hand go up. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was going to say something idiotic. She just knew it. She was standing right next to the bastard, and she really wanted nothing more than to give him a swift kick to the balls.

"A few days ago," he said in an earnest voice that made Izzy cringe, "I go into the toilets. Tony and Gary were in there—they're buck naked—"

At that point Izzy couldn't help but cover her eyes, trying to block out the ridiculous spectacle she knew was about to take place.

"—Tony's got him by the hair, and he's just doin' him. Doggy style." Cue grunting and inappropriate miming. "Anyways I'm guessing that they've run off to continue their illicit homosexual affair, and I ask you, in this world of intolerance and prejudice who are we—who are _we_ to condemn them."

Letting her hand drop from her face, Izzy took a good look at the new probation worker. She did not look amused. In fact, she looked on the verge of tears. "I apologize for him," Izzy said in a frustrated tone. "I'm fairly certain he was dropped on his head as a child. It destroyed the part that feels shame."

The woman didn't say a word. She just left. As soon as Izzy heard the door close, she smacked Nathan hard on the back of his head.

"OW!" he cried out. "What the hell was that for?"

"Are you fucking joking?" Curtis shouted from the other side of the room. "Do you really even need to ask the question?"

"I was just givin' it a little color, man," Nathan said, rubbing at the back of his head. "Keepin' it interesting."

"The point isn't to keep it interesting, you idiot," Izzy growled, hitting him again. "The point is to make it as boring and uneventful as possible. Jesus fucking Christ."

The new probation worker didn't come back, so the six of them made their way to the roof. From their position they saw the woman leave the building. She looked seriously shaken for some reason. After glancing up at them one last time, she made her way to her car and drove off.

"Well," Nathan said, taking a long drag from his cigarette, "I think that we've gotten away with it."

"Do you actually believe that," Curtis asked, "or are you just really dumb?"

"I actually believe that!" Nathan exclaimed almost happily. He paused for a moment, pursing his lips like he was thinking really hard. "I mean I was there," he suddenly said in a frustrated sounding voice. "I should have one of these bullshit powers."

"Ya can 'ave mine," Kelly spat angrily. "You wanna know wot people are thinkin' about you?"

Izzy wrinkled her nose. Kelly's power seemed like absolute shit. She sure as hell didn't want to know what people thought about her. Not that she cared really. But still, she had enough angst rattling around in her own head, she sure as hell didn't need everyone else's in there as well. Then again, she wouldn't want Alisha's power either. The girls had gotten the short end of the stick in this little misadventure.

Apparently Nathan agreed with her. About Kelly's power, that is. He would probably kill for Alisha's.

"Not so much, no," he said, leering at Kelly. "I want something good, you know something from the A-list."

"Maybe you can fly," Simon suggested hesitantly.

Alisha snorted with derision. "He's not going to be able to fly."

"Now hold on a second," Izzy said quickly, holding up a hand. "I think we should test that theory before we totally dismiss it. Quick, Nathan, jump off the roof."

"Ha, ha, Ginger," he replied, making a face at her. "You're a fucking riot, you are."

Izzy shrugged casually and took a long sip of her drink. "I do my best."

This conversation was just too fucking weird. Her little brother would have a fit if he knew what was happening. She could just picture him falling asleep on a pile of his comic books with a stupid little smile on his face. It had been over 24 hours and it still hadn't quite sunk in. She had a superpower. She didn't know what the fuck it was or how it worked or why she had it, but she had it.

"So what happens now?" Curtis asked, looking around at them all. "Is this it? Are we gonna be like this forever?"

Izzy snorted. "I don't think that's really a question we can answer. It's not like there's a manual for this kind of shit."

Simon cleared his throat quietly like he wanted to say something. "What if we're meant to be, like, superheroes?"

"You lot, superheroes," Nathan said with derision. "No offense, but in what kind of fucked up world would that be allowed to happen? Superheroes—I love this guy, you prick!"

"I don't know," Izzy said, draping her arm over Simon's shoulders. "I've always wanted to solve crime with a plucky side-kick."

"Wot if there's loads of people like os all ova town?"

"No," Nathan said, shaking his head, "that kind of thing only happens in America. This will fade away. I'm tellin' ya by this time next week, it'll be back to the same old boring shit."

The six of them stood at the edge of the roof, staring out at the water in front of them. Izzy felt like it some strange iconic image that belonged on the cover of some cartoon.

Had they gotten away with it? Could she stop freaking out now? Was it over?

The answer was probably no. Scratch that, the answer was definitely no. But today wasn't the day for that. For today the answer was a big, resounding yes, because Izzy wasn't sure that she could survive another hangover like the one she woke up with that morning.

**I really hope that this chapter wasn't too incredibly boring. I'm really not satisfied wth it, but I feel like it was necessary. I guess that this was a bit of a filler chapter. I promise there will be more action and entertainment in future chapters. Mostly my aim was to do a little more character development and allow for the transition from Izzy absolutely freaking out to her being OK. Oh, well. I hope you'll like the next one better.  
**

**Also, if you go to my profile you will find links to photos of the appearance of Izzy and of her tattoos.  
**

**Anyway, please review! I hope it turned out OK.**


	5. Someone Knows

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to AlfieTimewolf, Maya, and Guest for reviewing.**

**AlfieTimewolf: Thank you so much for your continued support and for reviewing every chapter. It's greatly appreciated.**

**Maya: Thanks! I'm really glad that you like Izzy. I'm doing my best to keep her realistic and make her fit in with the others.**

**Guest: Just….wow. I'm so incredibly flattered.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

Chapter 5 – Someone Knows

There was a naked man. There was a naked man curled up on the ground in a dirty alley on the estate. This certainly wasn't the type of rubbish she thought she would be picking up when probation worker Sally had given them those reacher-grabber things. She had expected discarded beer cans, old newspapers, a few used condoms and a couple of other things she regularly wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Hell, maybe there would even be a few mole people venturing out of the sewers, but finding a grown man lying in a car park, naked as the day he was born, was not on Izzy's list of things to expect.

The day had started out normally, as had the previous few days. After the forty-eight hours of complete utter probation-worker-killing madness, the days had started to form a certain pattern. The lot of them would show up, Sally would give them an assignment, and Nathan would bitch about not having a power while they picked up litter or washed off graffiti or some equally mundane task. He had run through a series of potential ones—flying, insensitivity to pain, super-strength—and they were getting progressively ridiculous. Why the fuck would he be able to climb walls or walk through walls? At least him smacking his head while walking straight into a concrete wall had provided a small bit of amusement for the day.

The way they would spend the rest of the days was actually fairly typical. Curtis and Alisha would engage in some nauseating flirting, Izzy and Nathan would banter, Simon would sit in a corner and film them like a creepy stalker, Kelly and Izzy would engage in some small talk, and then Kelly would hit Nathan at least once, which would, without fail, make Izzy bust out laughing. It was a weird, dysfunctional sort of ritual, and Izzy was surprised to find that she didn't mind it so much. What was even stranger, she didn't mind the people so much. That was definitely a first.

For Izzy, other than the bizarre choice of conversation topics, things were becoming oddly normal. Whatever her power was, it didn't seem to affect her life all that much. It wasn't like Kelly's or Alisha's who couldn't turn theirs off, and it wasn't a voluntary one like Simon's. It only ever seemed to manifest when she was being threatened, so the rest of the time she could walk around like a normal person. Normal being a relative term of course. If she was the standard for normal then the world was doomed to a fiery end. Then again global warming seemed to be taking care of that all on its own.

And then they found the naked man in the car park, and things started to get weird again.

\

"What is that?" Curtis demanded in an appalled voice.

"Come on, Curtis," Izzy said, walking up next to him, "I know you had an unconventional education with the running and all that shit, but I figured you must have taken rudimentary biology. That, my friend," she said waving her trash-grabber in the direction they were looking, "that is a man's bare arse. You happen to have one yourself."

"Shut up," he groaned, glaring at her. In return she flashed her biggest grin.

The six of them ambled over to the prostrate figure. Izzy was trying hard to conceal her giggles of immature laughter, and was failing miserably. From somewhere behind her she heard a sound vaguely reminiscent of a dying parrot. She turned around to see Nathan shoving a fist in his mouth and shaking with laughter. When she caught his eye he made a face at her, causing her to release a loud and unladylike snort.

"Is 'e breavin'? Do ya think he's awright?" Kelly asked, craning her neck to get a better look at him.

Alisha took a few hesitant steps forward, wrinkling her nose. "Hey nude guy," she said, poking him in the ass with her trash-grabber. "You're naked."

At first the man didn't move, just shifting slightly on the ground.

"Jesus Christ," Izzy muttered, leaning over him. "How drunk is this guy." She poked him a few more times. "Oi, wake up."

The man slowly rolled over, still completely unaware of his surroundings. He was going to be in for a big shock. But when he finally managed to roll onto his back, they were in for a big shock. And that big shock was one gigantic penis. The lot of them cried out in a mixture of discomfort and amusement. Izzy found herself giggling inappropriately again, like a ten-year old.

"Man," she said, holding up her hand to give him at least a little privacy, "I think you might have taken the whole 'freeballing it' thing to a bit of an extreme."

The man looked up at the lot of them, and then back at his nether regions over and over again like he couldn't believe what was happening. The look of sheer horror on his face sent Izzy into another fit of laughter. It took a few moments for her to realize that somebody's laughter was noticeably absent, and it was the last person she would expect. Nathan was standing there, eyes wide, looking just as horrified as the naked man at his feet. "YOU!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The man stared up at Nathan, looking even more mortified than before, and scrambled to his feet. He sprinted away from them as quickly as possible. He slipped in a bit of water and collapsed to the ground, causing another wave of laughter to crash down on them.

"Was that a friend of yours?" Izzy asked Nathan, breathlessly choking out the words.

Nathan's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "That's my mum's—He lives with my mum."

"Oh, shit," Izzy mumbled, cringing a bit. "That's definitely not something you want to see. And there was a lot to see."

"Your step-dad had a massive cock!" Alisha said through a mocking smile.

"He's not my step-dad," Nathan insisted, still looking more than a little bit traumatized.

"Did you see that?" Alisha continued on, riling him up. "It was like monster-big. Your mum will hurt."

"La, la, la, la, la," Nathan chanted, shoving his fingers in his ears like a child. "Shut up."

Then, of course, there was the obligatory brainstorming session to figure out exactly what Nathan's non-step-dad was doing lying naked in the car park. Apparently the most obvious options were pervert, rough-trade, homosexuality, rape, and….werewolf?

"Seriously, Simon," Izzy said, staring at him with raised eyebrows, "sometimes you have got to be kidding. That's about as likely as a giant moth appearing and eating his clothes."

And then Kelly broke into the conversation again with a rather troubling statement. "Wha' if the storm messed 'im op?"

Well that statement made Simon's whole werewolf scenario seem a lot less ridiculous. What if the storm had affected more people? And for the rest of the day Izzy was left with the harrowing feeling that things were going to become even more fucked up than she had originally anticipated. And that was a seriously disturbing thought.

The next day they weren't confronted with another nude man running around like he was one of the subjects of 'Gorillas in the Mist,' but Izzy did come to find herself face-to-face with something equally as off-putting. Old people. The community had been completely overrun by old people. Izzy didn't know if it was the unsettling sense of her own mortality, the thoughts of the futility of life in general, or too many episodes of 'Tales from the Crypt' in her formative years, but she had developed a fairly poignant aversion to old people. She was fine when there were only one or two of them around, but this—this was a fucking invasion. It was like the cast of 'Cocoon' showed up for a house party. The music certainly would have fit well with that scenario.

Standing in the main room of the community center in her usual baggy, ripped jeans, flannel shirt, and converse, Izzy eyed the new guests suspiciously. Sally was standing in front of the six young offenders with a forced smile on her face. "—Help out, talk to them, make sure that they're having a good time." Izzy glanced at the faces of her fellow young offenders. They looked just about as enthusiastic about the whole ordeal as she was. Sally's expression grew more and more desperate as they stood there, silently staring at her. "Just, m-move!"

Izzy wrinkled her nose and slowly walked forward with the others, shoving her hands as deeply into her pockets as possible. She ambled after Nathan and Kelly. After all, there was safety in numbers. The three of them came upon an old man, leaning over in his wheelchair with his mouth gaping open.

"Is 'e dead?" Kelly asked, leaning in over him. "I fink 'e's dead."

Izzy walked a bit closer and squinted her eyes at him. "Should we prod him with a stick or something? If someone has to do mouth to mouth, it's definitely not going to be me."

Nathan smirked and shook his head. "Back away, ladies," he said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together eagerly. "I've got this under control." He leaned in close to the man's ear, that stupid, but oddly attractive grin never leaving his face.

"SHE'S STEALING YOUR PENSION!"

The man jumped in his seat, suddenly very much awake.

"Nah, he's fine," Nathan said turning back to the two of them before wandering off somewhere else.

For a while Izzy hovered in the background, watching the old people dance and drink and revel in general merriment. She wondered if that would ever be her. A large part of her felt like her irrational aversion to the elderly was because she had a creeping feeling that she would never be one of them. Bad things seemed to follow her everywhere. First her mum died, coming home from Rachel Finnigan's sleepover to find that was a memory she would never be able to escape. Then there was that string of foster homes. Each time she moved, she would think to herself that maybe—just maybe—it would be better, but then it wasn't. And now she had been hit be lightening, had a superpower, and buried her probation worker. If there was any general trending pattern to life, she would probably be dead in less than ten years. Fuck. Now she really wanted a drink.

Eventually Izzy found herself sitting at a table in one of the wheelchairs, playing chess with a kind, elderly woman named Margaret. She found that she didn't mind this octogenarian quite so much. Maybe it was the fact that she didn't bother trying to look young. There was no dyed hair, no garish lipstick, no suffocating perfume. She reminded Izzy of old Mrs. Ainsley, her second foster parent—the second of seven—and the only really decent one of the bunch. She was actually having a good time. She hadn't had a decent chess match in ages, and playing against the computer didn't really have the same satisfaction.

Izzy wasn't exactly playing at peak performance. She found herself constantly distracted by Nathan's antics. One moment he was doing some ridiculous interpretive dance, nearly impaling several of the dancers, and the next he was pushing an old woman in a wheelchair around like he was racing an invisible opponent. The whole thing was absolutely absurd and childish, and Izzy found that she rather enjoyed it. Part of her wished that she could be that carefree. She had never really gotten to be a kid, even when she was one, and that idiot sometimes made her feel like maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she could be just as much of an ass as he was, and maybe she would be the better for it. He was a homeless accessory to murder who now had a disturbing familiarity with the cock of the man who was stuffing his mum, and here he was dancing around, footloose and fancy free. Izzy blinked and shook her head a bit. Jesus fucking Christ. Did she look up to Nathan? This whole thing was getting seriously fucked up.

At one point Madge caught her staring out after him and snickering slightly. The old woman twisted her head around to follow Izzy's plane of vision. "Is that your boyfriend?" she asked with a conspiratorial smile.

Izzy nearly coughed up the water she was in the process of swallowing. "Me and Nathan?" she demanded incredulously. "No. No, no, no, no. Absolutely not. No. No, no, no. Get your head in the game, Madge. I don't want to beat you too easily. There's no sport in it."

"I could say the same thing to you," the old woman replied, taking another peek at him. "He's a good-looking one, I'll give him that."

Izzy let her mouth drop in mock shock, moving her bishop to put the king in check. "Madge, you dirty bird! Keep your mind out of the gutter."

The woman smiled and moved her king out of check. "At my age, dearie, all there I can do is live vicariously through the young, and I am telling you that that is one handsome young man."

Izzy pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I can get his number for you if you want," she said in an arch tone. "But fair warning, he's also a complete twat."

Madge raised her eyebrows. "Language, young lady."

Izzy let out a snort of laughter. "I'm not going to censor myself just because you're on the other side of eighty. That's ageism, and I'll have none of it."

"So you're defending my honor by swearing in front of me?"

Izzy considered the statement for a moment and then nodded enthusiastically. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

The two of them played on for a few more minutes until all of the sudden a shadow appeared over Izzy's shoulder. When she looked up at Madge, there was a sly smile on her face that Izzy really didn't care for. Then Nathan's head dropped into frame with that same stupid smile. He yanked the wheelchair backwards violently, almost making her careen out the front.

"What the fuck, Nathan!" she hissed, clutching the armrests for dear life. "I was kind of in the middle of som—"

"So you and me," he said, unceremoniously cutting her off and crouching down next to her.

She gave him a suspicious look. "What about it?"

"The two of us," he continued, gesturing between them, "are we gonna get on with the shagging any time soon, or am I going to have to wait a while on that front?"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Irons. Fire," he said holding up his hands like he was juggling two options. "I've got to prioritize."

Izzy grimaced at him. "I would rather become a vegan."

"Alright, then," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "Now I know that you're not an option…..Behold!"

He quickly spun her around in the chair so she was facing the opposite direction. Her eyes immediately fell on an old woman who was drinking tea at one of the tables. She had dyed her hair a garish red which matched the lipstick that had managed to cover her teeth. "Wow, Nathan," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "she's a real looker, that one. Why don't you go offer her another cup of tea? I think that's your 'in'. You best hurry though, you never know when someone's going to sweep in and snap them up."

"What?" he asked blinking a few times. When he realized what she was talking about, his face immediately transformed into an expression of disgust. "Ew. No, not her. Look over there," he said snapping his fingers and pointing frantically. "Over there, the blonde by the buffet table." Izzy's eyes went to the direction he was pointing. There stood a very pretty—unfairly pretty—and proper-looking blonde woman. When she looked back at Nathan, his smirk had reappeared. "Her name's Ruth, and she happens to find me very funny and charming."

"Well we know she's brain damaged then," Izzy muttered. "That certainly increases your chances."

"Shut it, Ginger."

Izzy squinted to get a better look at the woman. "Ruth," she said, tasting the name on her tongue. "That's sounds like an old woman's name."

"Well anyway," Nathan barreled on, "I think I might be in there."

"You sure?" Izzy asked skeptically, eyeing the woman. "She's so prim and proper. She kind of strikes me as the sexually repressed type. You might be in for some tea and biscuits, but anything beyond that….."

Nathan wrinkled his nose in disappointment. "You think so?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p'. She glanced at Nathan, who was suddenly looking very forlorn. "Well," she said, nudging him in the side, "what are you waiting for?"

"Hm?"

"Go corrupt her," Izzy retorted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Nathan's face split into a giant grin. "You know what, Ginger. You're not half bad."

"Oh," she replied sarcastically, placing a hand over her heart. "Now I can die happy."

Nathan made a beeline for the buffet and Izzy rolled back to the card table. When she got back Madge was staring back with a very smug expression. "Shove it, Madge," she grumbled, looking poignantly down at the chess board. "It's your move."

The woman reached a wrinkled hand onto the board and moved her piece. Then she sat back in the chair, looking supremely pleased with herself.

"Checkmate."

Izzy narrowed her eyes. "Don't get cocky, Madge," she muttered bitterly, replacing the pieces to their designated positions on the board. "This time around, you're going down in a big, big way."

A few hours later they were back in the locker rooms. Izzy was rooting through hers, pulling out her belongings and humming 'Hey Jude' when Alisha stomped through, violently wrenching the locker door open. She wanted to ask her if she was alright, but the expression on her face was screaming 'leave me the fuck alone'. Oh, well. Another time, maybe. There was a pretty high likelihood that Alisha would be pissy some time in the near future.

Izzy yawned and stretched, feeling some of her vertebrae snap into place. She could really use a pint. That was how most of these days usually ended, with her needing a pint. Or maybe something stronger. But her plans for relaxation didn't last long. In fact, they were shattered to bits.

"Someone knows," Curtis said in a low, panicked voice. "They know we killed our probation worker."

Izzy quickly extracted her head from the interior of her locker and turned to face Curtis. He was holding up a piece of paper with the words 'I KNOW WHAT YOU DID' crudely spelled out with newspaper clippings. It was as if a hot ball of lead was suddenly dropped into the pit of her stomach, burning her from the inside out.

"Is dis a wind op?" Kelly demanded suddenly, rounding on Nathan. "Is dis you?"

Nathan just stood there with one of the ties from his hoodie in his mouth, looking around with a blank expression on his face. "Oh, come on," he said, rolling his eye theatrically. "Give me at least a little bit of credit here. If I was trying to wind you up, I think I'd be a little bit more creative. 'I Know What Film You Saw Last Summer."

But Kelly didn't seem fully satisfied. "This isn't funny!

Nathan scoffed and turned to face her. "If I wanted to freak you out, I would have dug up the body and stuck that in your locker!"

"So if it wasn't him," Simon said quietly, peeking around a set of lockers, "then who was it?"

Izzy sighed and collapsed back against the lockers, slamming her head into them with a loud thump. It was an ill-advised way to relieve her frustration, but at the moment it was the only one she could think of. "Well," she said in a deadened voice, "clearly it was someone who suspects us of murdering Tony.

A look of confusion crossed Nathan's face. "Who's Tony?"

Izzy stared at him, slack jawed. "Tony?" she prompted, incredulity coloring her tone. "The probation worker? For fuck's sake, your brain has more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese! Have you been tested?"

"Hey," he said wheeling to face her, "there's no call for rudeness here. And my brain is fucking beautiful, thank you very much."

"Oh, really," she said angrily, squaring her shoulders. "What's my name?"

Nathan pursed his lips in thought. "It's uh," he mumbled, snapping his fingers. "It's—"

"Would da two of ya just shut da fock up?" Kelly growled angrily, smacking Nathan on the back of the head. "Dere's otha stuff we've gotta be worryin' about."

"Okay, okay," Nathan shouted, wincing away from her hand. "Look," he said, turning to everybody, "we've all done stuff. Unrelated stuff. They could be talking about anything."

"This was meant for all of us!" Curtis shouted anxiously. "They're talking about the probation worker, they have to be!"

"Okay," Nathan said calmly, approaching Curtis, "let's just say you're right. If they actually knew anything, they wouldn't be dicking around sticking notes on lockers. They would have gone to the police and we'd all be banged up in prison getting gang-raped in the showers. But this—this means that they have no evidence, no proof. Nothing."

Izzy let out a low whistle. This guy seemed to keep surprising her. Behind all the bravado, the lewd references, and the masses of curly hair, there was actually a brain, and a reasonably high-functioning one at that. "I never in a million years thought that I would say this," she mumbled pushing herself up off the lockers and standing next to Nathan, "but I actually agree with him. If they knew anything for sure, we wouldn't be having this conversation. And even having this conversation could draw some attention that we really don't need."

"Yeah!" Nathan agreed. "And anyway I'm guessing that this is about some totally unrelated shit that you've done. So, if we're all done freaking out here over nothing, there's somewhere that I need to be." He slammed his hand into the lockers and marched out of the locker room with as much swagger as possible.

Izzy returned to her locker. Sighing, she placed her hands on either side of it, leaning and letting her head sag down towards the floor. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The second she begins to calm down about the whole thing, and something like this had to go and happen. Her brain tried to tell the rest of her body that Nathan was probably right, that everything was probably fine, but it wasn't listening. The sympathetic nervous system was kicking into gear. The adrenaline was flowing, her heart was racing—it was like her nerves had caught fire. Fight or flight. She really wanted to start running now.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Kelly. "Do ya really fink 'e's right? About dem not knowin'?"

Izzy groaned. "My head says yes, but the twisted knot in my stomach says no." She grabbed her bag out of the locker and turned away from it, taking a steadying breath. "I would go with my head, though. As I'm sure you've noticed my body doesn't act rationally when it comes to these sort of things."

"Yeah," she replied sympathetically. "Mine neitha. When I saw dat note I thought I was gonna throw up."

Izzy offered up a hesitant smile, and the two of them stood there awkwardly for a few moments.

Suddenly Kelly spoke again. "Do ya fancy goin' out for a pint?"

Then a real, genuine grin broke out over Izzy's face.

"It's like you read my mind."

She slammed the locker door closed with a loud, resounding bang. And then something occurred to her. Maybe—just maybe—they were actually okay. Hell, even if they weren't there wasn't any use in panicking. If they were fucked, then they were fucked. It's not like there was anything they could actually do about it at this point.

**Also, if you go to my profile you will find links to photos of the appearance of Izzy and of her tattoos.**

**If you catch any mistakes in the British lingo or spelling errors, please let me know.**

**Also, that line about the moths isn't entirely mine. It's a derivation of a line used in the TV show Castle.**

**Anyway, please review! It feeds the muse, and she's hungry.**

**P.S. How did you guys like Madge? I'm kind of thinking of bringing her back for a cameo if the opportunity arises/if you like her enough.  
**


	6. Meet the Gay, Rapist Werewolf

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to AlfieTimewolf, marina2351, and Guest for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

**So it's about 3 am for me right now, so there might be some mistakes but I couldn't stop writing, so…..**

**The relationship between Izzy and Nathan is going to develop gradually, and there are going to be a lot of scenes that don't involve Nathan. I hope this is okay for you guys, because I'm trying to set it up so the character of Izzy isn't contingent upon Nathan. I want her to stand on her own, and hopefully that is coming across well enough.**

Chapter 6 – Gay Rapist Werewolf

Izzy awoke with a start, but she wasn't completely sure of the reason why she woke up so suddenly. It could have been the dream itself that woke her. She had had that dream a thousand times before and it had always terrified her. As it was with all those other times, there was a man—a man without a face—chasing after her with a bloodied knife screaming 'You're next!' at the top of his lungs. That recurring dream of hers—the one she had had since she was twelve— had caused her to jolt awake in the middle of the night completely covered in sweat on more than one occasion, but this time it was different. She wasn't entirely sure if it was why she woke up this time.

CRASH! That was what dragged Izzy into conscious this time around. It couldn't have been the dream, because she only ever woke up at the exact moment of her dream-self's death. She always got to feel the knife jam into her gut, but this time she had managed to escape it. But she wasn't able to wake up without her mind asking her why. Why had this time been different? Why had she avoided that dreaded end this time when she had fallen victim to it so many times before?

The question answered itself the moment she sat up and looked around the room. It was a complete fucking disaster. That is, it was even more of a complete fucking disaster than usual. All her furniture had toppled over, her sheets were tangled with the ceiling fan above her head, and her alarm clock—the one she had just fucking bought—had shattered against the wall. The harsh morning light was spilling in through the windows since the curtains had been ripped away, and it gave her a full view of the chaos. Everything that moved seemed to have radiated outwards, away from her. There was only one conclusion. It was her fucking power. She had been threatened by that faceless man in her dream, so her body reacted with one of those stupid goddamn force field things. As Izzy looked around and took in the horrid state of her flat, she was certain of one thing: her super was going to come calling. And that was a fucking awful way to start the day.

Today was going to be a problem. It was like the universe was incapable of letting her have two good days existing side by side. Yesterday, in spite of the whole 'holy shit, someone knows what we did' panic attack, had actually turned out to be a pretty good day. She and Kelly had gone out for a pint, gotten mildly tipsy, and bitched about their problems.

"I fockin' hate dis powa!" Kelly had confessed after her third lager. "Knowin' wot everbody's finkin' all da time, it's drivin' me fockin' insane!"

And then she had launched into a story about how she could hear what her dog was thinking—something Izzy really didn't want to dwell on—and how being able to hear people's thoughts resulted in her and her boyfriend breaking up just a few hours after the storm. Part of Izzy wondered if Kelly was telling her these personal things only because she knew all of Izzy's secrets, if it was out of some strange need to maintain a sort of balance in the sharing of personal information. But mostly she was grateful that Kelly was turning into some sort of version of a friend, regardless of the way it started out. Izzy didn't have many of those. Or any, really. So if Kelly was willing to give it a shot, so was she. That's when Izzy decided to volunteer some of her own secrets, because friendship was supposed to be a two-way street. At least that's what all the self-help books said.

"Look at this one," a slightly sloppy Izzy had said, pulling up the sleeve of her worn leather jacket to reveal the triskele tattoo on her wrist. "This is the first one I got. It's kind of about my mum, her death and all that. It's all about life, death, and rebirth. I was fourteen, naïve, and trying to be deep, so….this is what happened. Later on I found out the message wasn't as accurate or as poignant as all that." Then Izzy had quickly tugged her jacket sleeve down to cover it. "If you ever decide to get some sort of meaningful tattoo," she had mumbled into her glass, "make damn sure you know what the fuck it is that you're inking."

Kelly stared at her with a mouth slightly open. "Ya got your first tattoo when yous was fourteen?"

"Fake ID," Izzy said simply, shrugging and taking another long drink from the glass. "The seven tick marks on my left shoulder," she continued, patting her hand over the inked area, "those are for my seven foster homes and then the lotus on the other side—I got that one the day I aged out. It's a Buddhist symbol for good fortune, purification and rebirth. It felt appropriate at the time."

"Shit," Kelly had mumbled, collapsing against the back of the booth. "I got mine 'coz I thought it looked nice."

Izzy hadn't told anyone about those tattoos, about what they meant, in years. Mostly it was because having to explain involved her sharing her life story, and she usually didn't like doing that. But Kelly already knew her life story. The telepathy had created a sort of forced intimacy, and maybe that was a good thing.

Unfortunately the emotional catharsis of the previous day had given way to a mess of a morning. Literally. Sure enough, as she had predicted, it was only a few minutes before there was a loud banging on her front door.

"McCallum!" the angry voice screamed. "You open the fucking door this minute or I swear to God-"

Izzy sprinted towards the front door, hopping over the overturned card table, and pulled the door open, leaving the chain in place so that it could only open a fraction. Hopefully that would conceal the disaster within. "Hey Carl," she said breathlessly, smiling at the old, pudgy man through the small crack

"How's it going, man?"

"How the fuck do you think it's going?" he growled angrily. "What was all that noise a second ago? Did you decide to invite a bunch of those no-good, criminal friends of yours over for a party, because you know the building's policy on that kind of thing. You aiming to get kicked out to the street? Because that's the way this conversation seems to be headed. And if you think for a second that you'd get your security deposit back, then you're even more of a stupid bitch than I thought."

Izzy narrowed her eyes. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to punch that smug, pervy bastard right in the face, but that really wouldn't have helped her situation. "I fell asleep with the TV on, Carl. That's it. I'm sorry I left it on so loud."

The unsettling grin just grew wider as he bore his yellowed teeth. "It's not going to matter all that much if you don't get your rent in on time. It was a week late last time and I'm not quite sure how generous I'm feeling this month."

If looks could kill, Izzy was pretty sure Carl would have been incinerated. "You're not going to evict me."

"Oh, yeah," he said cockily crossing his arms over his chest. "And why is that?"

It was Izzy's turn to smirk. "Because I've got footage of you trying to install those webcams in the bathroom." The smile on Carl's face suddenly crumpled. "It doesn't matter that you were too incompetent to do it properly, Carl," Izzy said through a sneer. "Either way I don't think that the building's owner-or the police for that matter-will take too well to this kind of thing. So back the fuck off, or I'll go find my perve whistle and wake the rest of the building. I'm sure they'd love to be a part of this little conversation."

Carl glared for a few moments, called her a bitch, and then stormed off down the hall, a stream of expletives leaving his mouth. Izzy closed the door and collapsed against it. Interactions with Carl always made her feel slimy and gross. She always wanted to take a shower afterwards, but then that always made her mind go back to those webcams. She had disabled them the moment Carl had left the room—she had always been good at figuring out electronics—and they had long since disappeared, but just the thought of them made her shiver in disgust. She really needed to find a new place, but this cesspool really was all she could afford.

Soon enough Izzy was ready to get going. She had wrangled her favorite pair of bright green Converse and the cleanest pair of pants she could find, which was difficult seeing as her little 'episode' had thrown her clothes all over the flat. She paused for a moment before picking a top. This time instead of one of her multitude of baggy, flannel shirts, she grabbed hold of a modestly form-fitting tank top. Looking in the mirror, she took note of the fact that she actually had a decent figure. But why now, of all times, had she finally decided to make it visible? For some reason she couldn't find an answer to that question. Shoving that thought out of her mind, she ran out of the building as quickly as possible, hoping beyond hope that she would manage to avoid running into Carl. One creepy encounter was enough for the day. Or the millennium. On her way to the community center she picked up a coffee, and found herself wishing that there was some bourbon in it—something to make her unfortunate living situation seem a little less shitty.

Yawning and wiping the exhaustion from her eyes, Izzy turned the corner to see something that made her rub at her eyes for a completely different reason. Nathan was fully awake, sitting on the steps of the community center and smoking a cigarette. He had a sort of blank expression in his face, like he couldn't see anything in front of him. Izzy walked up next to him and dropped her bag with a resounding thud.

"Fuck!" he swore loudly, suddenly aware of his surroundings. He stared up at her, blinking at the sky like the dim light that had managed to penetrate through that constant blanket of grey was blinding him. "Jesus, Izzy, you've got to stop doing that! Every bloody day I almost piss myself because you sneak up on me like some kind of fucking ninja."

Izzy rolled her eyes and plopped down next to him. "So you've remembered my name the. About time."

"Yeah," he said with a cheeky grin. "I asked that weird kid, Barry. He knows everyone's name. Did you know that our first probation worker was called Tony?"

Izzy wasn't sure if she should groan or bust out laughing. She knew she should probably correct Nathan and tell him Simon's proper name, but the irony was just too beautiful to spoil. Did that make her a bad person? She sighed and shook her head. Fuck it. Being a bad person was way more entertaining.

For the first time that morning she really, properly looked at Nathan. He was an absolute mess. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, his hair was greasy and unkempt, and his skin had a mild sickly pallor to it. "You look like complete shit," she said, taking a long swig from the coffee in her hand. "Either you had a really terrible night, or a really fucking awesome one."

The smirk on his face grew wider as he took another drag from his cigarette. "A little bit of both."

"So fucking mysterious," Izzy said with a smile, nudging in ribs. "We both know that you're dying to tell me, so stop being coy and spit it out ready."

"Well since you're so desperate, love," he said stretching theatrically. "First I went 'round to me mum's to tell her she was living with a gay, rapist werewolf—"

Izzy went into a coughing fit as she choked on her coffee. "Please, please tell me you didn't phrase it like that."

"Of course I did," Nathan said in a condescending tone. "It's the truth. And she didn't believe me. She just shooed me away like a stray dog or some shit like that. She didn't even believe me after I told her I knew about his massive cock! Said I must have peeked on him in the shower. Do you believe that?"

"Shocking," Izzy deadpanned.

"I know!" Nathan continued, clearly oblivious to her sarcasm. "Anyways, I get back to the community center and guess who's comin' by for a visit? That bird Ruth. A little booze, a few pills. The two of us had a right good time," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Izzy let out a snort of disbelief. "She let you fuck her? In the community center? Somehow I don't see that happening."

"Well, it did!" he declared proudly. Izzy leveled him with a disbelieving stare and his expression faltered. "Alright, well it would have happened. But just when I'm about to make my move—the big one—Jeremy shows up again! He's buck naked and sniffing around the bins like a weird sicko. I chase after him and by the time I get back she's gone."

Izzy wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Why was he sniffing around the bins?"

"How the fuck should I know? But it was all worth it, man," he said, digging around in his pockets and pulling out a phone. "It was all worth it, because this time I've got some evidence." He thrust the phone into her hand, pointing excitedly at the dark, grainy photo. "There," he proclaimed proudly, "that's some fucking proof!"

Izzy brought the image up close to her face and stared at it carefully. She glanced back up at Nathan, his face still shining like a ten-year-old who had gotten an awesome Christmas present. She furrowed her eyebrows quizzically and took a closer look. "What exactly is this supposed to be? It looks like some sort of modern art type shit."

"Oh, come on," he groaned. He scooted in a bit closer and reached his hand over her shoulder so he could point at the screen. "There's cock, anus, and a little bit of ball sack. It's from a low angle, but I think the photo's good enough."

"Good enough for what?" Izzy demanded, looking up at him over her shoulder. "Soft core porn? It's got the bad lighting and the shoddy camera work."

"I'm gonna show it to my mum," he said casually. "She'll recognize it and know I'm telling the truth."

Izzy cringed. "Okay. First of all, that statement is disturbing on so many levels. Secondly, this," she said waving the phone at him, "this is not a fucking fingerprint. It doesn't prove a damn thing. You should have stuck around the community center, and maybe you would have managed to shag Ruth before she sobered up."

"Whatever, man," he said angrily, yanking the phone out of her hands. "Just you wait. I'm going to go see my mum, show her this, then Jeremy gets kicked out and I'm back in. And then guess whose laughin'? Me."

Izzy rolled her eyes and returned to her coffee. She considered telling Nathan that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results, but somehow she didn't think that the message would quite sink in. So instead she just sighed heavily and stared out in front of her. After a few more moments Alisha sashayed by in a tight, short, pink leopard print dress that had clearly been a part of the previous night's festivities. Izzy pushed herself up to her feet and drained the remains of her coffee. "At least somebody got laid last night," she muttered, clapping a condescending hand on Nathan's shoulder and turning into the community center.

"She's got an unfair advantage!" his voice echoed after her.

Soon enough the lot of them were suited up and ready to go. Sally had them setting out the chairs for a support group meeting or some shit like that. As usual, Alisha was sitting around doing absolutely nothing, idly flipping through the pages of some gossip magazine and Simon was busy filming every single inane event. Meanwhile Nathan was rushing about showing everybody his non-step-dad's genitalia, ultimately leaving only Kelly, Curtis, and herself to do the work.

"—He was out there last night," Nathan ranted at Kelly, waving the phone in her face. "This is evidence."

"Er, wot am I lookin' at?"

Nathan leaned in some more, pointing out all the distinct anatomical parts. "Cock. Anus. A bit of ball sack."

Kelly grabbed at the phone and squinted "Ugh. Wot's tha'?"

"That's ball sack!" he exclaimed, his voice becoming more and more frustrated. "It's from a low angle. Jesus!"

From where Izzy was setting up chairs, she could see Kelly give Nathan a curious look. "Where was you last night?"

Nathan suddenly started acting really twitchy and rushed away from her, instead showing the photo to Simon who seemed all too pleased to be looking at another man's junk.

"Look this guy is living with my mum," Nathan declared, wheeling around and looking at everybody. "We gotta do something!

Izzy looked at him skeptically, but it was Kelly who spoke. "Like wot? Wot exactly is it dat we can do?"

Nathan pursed his lips for a moment, deep in thought. Or at least as deep in thought as his brain would permit. He snapped his fingers, a look of realization spreading across his face. "Can you get me a gun?" he said, turning to Kelly, looking more than a little bit desperate. "I mean, you must know someone, right?"

Izzy let out a snort of laughter and collapsed in one of the chairs she had just set out. "Are you fucking serious? You really think that's going to help you out under these circumstances? Best case scenario is that you shoot off your own foot."

Nathan turned to her with his hands on his hips. "And what's the worst case scenario?"

"That you accidentally shoot Jeremy in the face, your mum hates you forever, and you go to jail for murder."

Nathan exhaled sharply. "Well aren't you buckets of sunshine and rainbows and puppies," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look," he said, turning back to Kelly, "can you get me a gun or not? Just a little one—nothing to leery."

Kelly let out an audible scoff. "There is no way I'm getting a dickhead like you a gun."

"You can get a gun off the internet," Simon said quietly from the corner.

"Well that's really fucking comforting," Izzy muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why are we still talking about this?"

Nathan groaned and kicked absently at one of the chairs. "Well what if we all go 'round there tonight," he said eagerly. "We'll talk to him, we'll be mature and polite, yeah. And then we'll just tell him to fuck off."

Izzy snorted with derision. "No flies on you. I don't see a way that plan wouldn't work."

"Wot if 'e says no?"

"I don't know," Nathan groaned, waving his hands about. "We'll improvise. So who's with me?"

He was met with dead silence. There weren't any crickets about, so Izzy let her mind fill in the blank silence. Nathan was staring around at all of them with an expectant look on his face. She could see the hope slowly leak out of his face. She didn't know why, but it made her feel mildly nauseous. He let out a bitter laugh, and for some reason turned to look directly at her. "It's like that, is it?" he spat bitterly. "So much for being united by a horrific, life-changing shared experience. Hm? Last week? You know? The situation? WE KILLED OUR PROBATION WORKER!"

Any sympathy he had accrued with her evaporated instantly. He was a freaking twat. "Jesus, would you shut the fuck up?" Izzy growled, willing him to shut his fucking mouth. "I'll go with you, just stop fucking confessing!"

The scowl was immediately replaced with a shit-eating grin. "Good show, man. Let's do this!"

Simon stepped forward, his eyes creepily intense. "I'll come too. If you want someone to go with you, I'll come."

"I'm not being funny, but me and you buddying up, kicking ass—I'm just…not feeling it." He waltzed over to Izzy and collapsed in the chair next to her, draping an arm over her shoulders. "I'm pretty sure Ginger and I have it under control. But, hey, lovely thought. Cheers."

Izzy rolled her eyes and grabbed hold of his hand, peeling his arm off of her shoulders. "You really need to work on your concept of personal space."

Never in a million years would Izzy have predicted that she would feel this way, but she actually found that a day of manual labor passed by too quickly. She was seriously dreading what would come after, but she had given her word so she wouldn't back out. Most people's word counted for absolute shit, but she refused to be one of those people.

Nathan was waiting for her at the door as she made to leave the community center. He seemed to have regained all that infuriating swagger of his. She had the distinct urge to smack the smirk right off his face. "This feels good, you know, it feels right," he said as she walked by, "you and me, pairing up like this. Kicking ass and taking names and all that bullshit."

"Really?" she replied, giving him the once-over. "Exactly how many asses have you kicked?"

"That's not important," he said quickly. "Now come on. We're burning daylight here."

It was about twenty minutes before they managed to reach his mum's house. Izzy blinked in shock when she saw it. So this was where Nathan grew up. It was so mind-bogglingly….normal.

"Okay," Nathan said, rubbing his hands together eagerly, "I don't have a key, so we're just going to have to use one of the windows."

He ran towards one of the lower windows and jumped up, trying to haul himself onto the windowsill. Izzy sighed and grabbed hold of his collar, hauling him down to the ground. "Slow you roll there, James Bond. There are easier ways of getting in."

"Oh yeah?" he said breathlessly. "Like what?"

Izzy silently turned to the door and pulled out one of the bobby pins she had shoved in her hair that morning and used it to jimmy the lock. A few moments later there was a faint click and the door swung open.

"Well aren't you full of surprises!" Nathan muttered with raised eyebrows before ducking into the house. Izzy closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before following him.

Taking in her surroundings, Izzy noted that the inside of the house was as shockingly normal as the outside. There were even some embroidered curtains and cat figurines. Izzy was following Nathan down the hallway towards a man on a cycling machine when her tripped on the edge of the carpet and sent a few of those figurines crashing to the ground. The man—Jeremy presumably—looked up at them in confusion.

"Nathan?" he said breathlessly.

"That's right!" Nathan growled, advancing on Jeremy in a way that was probably meant to be intimidating. "You're number's up you psycho nudist freak!"

The man just blinked and looked past Nathan, focusing on Izzy. "Who's this?" he asked politely, gesturing at her.

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows. It was definitely the same guy she had seen in the car park that day, but he didn't seem like some crazed psychopath. He actually seemed rather nice. "I'm Izzy," she said, waving at him. "I'm doing community service with Nathan. I guess I'm here for…moral support?"

"Oh," Jeremy said simply, nodding at her. "Well it's nice to mee—"

"We're not here for a fucking ice cream social!" Nathan cried out, fumbling with his cell phone. He held it up to Jeremy's face. "See anything you recognize?"

Jeremy tilted his head to the side slightly. "What am I looking at?"

Nathan sighed in frustration and walked closer. "Cock. Anus. Ball sack. It's from a low angle. And it's you! Last night! George Michael gets away with this shit, but he used to be in WAM! Who are you? You see this?" he continued, waving the phone around. "I show this to my mum and you're history, so just take your crappy shit and go."

For dramatic effect he picked up the music player that was blasting and threw it to the ground, causing the music to peter out slowly. Izzy groaned and buried her face in her hands. This had to be the worst and most anticlimactic confrontation of all time.

"Look, don't make this any harder on yourself!" Nathan rambled on. "Just go!"

"No. Y-you g-go," Jeremy stuttered out. "You're mum doesn't even want you here!"

Izzy could tell what was going to happen next—that tension in Nathan's shoulders. He pulled back his arm and punched Jeremy straight in the nose. "For fuck's sake, Nathan!" Izzy groaned as an older, pretty woman entered the room. Time to meet the mum.

"Nathan!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "What the hell are you doing? How did you get in here?"

"Izzy picked the lock on the front door," he said, jerking his thumb in her direction.

The woman turned to Izzy with wide, angry eyes. Izzy opened and closed her mouth a few times trying to think of something to say. "I—I'm…..You have a lovely home."

"You made me do this!" Nathan yelled. Izzy said a silent thank you for the attention being diverted from her. "You wouldn't listen! That psycho was out there again last night! Tell her, you sick bastard!"

"He already told me!"

Well that was an unexpected development. Izzy stared at the woman, who was now holding a bag of frozen peas to Jeremy's nose. This was fucking weird. There was a pregnant pause—a third trimester load of awkward in it—before Jeremy spoke up.

"It started after that storm," he mumbled, still trying to stop up the blood pouring out of his nose. "It did something to me. Sometimes it's like I'm a dog. When I was a kid we had this Jack Russel, Billy. We did everything together. He was my best friend. Now whenever I see a Jack Russel it brings back all these feelings and the next thing I know I'm waking up naked."

Izzy let out a long, slow whistle. "Have you ever considered therapy? Because I think there's a bit of an unhealthy attachment disorder type thing going on there."

Nathan's mum wheeled on her with an angry glare. "Get the hell out of my house."

"Gladly," she said quickly, raising her hands in submission.

"No," Nathan said, grabbing her hand and dragging her next to him. "She's here to help me make you see things clearly. Look, mum," he said in a pleading voice, "are you honestly telling me that you're okay with this?"

"If that's who he is, I've got to accept it," she said earnestly. "Some men dress up in women's clothing—"

"They're just sick perverts!" he shouted back. He pointed angrily at Jeremy. "Him—he's dangerous!"

Izzy cleared her throat lightly, making everybody turn to her. "He does have a bit of a point there, doesn't he? I mean, even if he didn't mean to, he could still do some damage."

Nathan's mum glared at her for a few moments and then looked back at Jeremy. "You've broken his nose!"

Nathan rolled his eyes heavily. "It's not like you can enter him in Crufts!"

Izzy felt the shift in the atmosphere. It grew chilly, frigid even, and she saw in Nathan's mum's eyes a look that she recognized all to well. She knew what was going to happen next. SLAP! The woman's hand connected loudly with Nathan's cheek. And then the both of them stood there, looking absolutely horrified. Nathan sprinted out the door without another word, leaving Izzy standing there dumbly.

"Soooo," Izzy said quietly, shifting awkwardly on her feet. "You have a lovely home. Shit, I've already said that….It was nice to meet you. And Jeremy, congratulations on the whole downstairs business situation you've got going on. I hope the three of you will be very happy together."

Before either of them could say anything else, she sprinted out the back door after Nathan. She found him sitting on the curb in front of his house, trying frantically to light a joint, but his lighter didn't seem to be working. Izzy pulled out her lighter and sat down next to him, holding out a flame. He mumbled a quiet 'thank you', lighting the thing and taking a long drag.

She sighed and looked at him. He was really torn up. "I take it that's the first time that's happened?"

Nathan stared absently in front of him, avoiding looking at her in the eye. "How did you know?"

Izzy sighed and pulled her jacket tight around her. "Because you looked genuinely surprised. With things like that….if it happens enough times you can see it coming. There's this sort of movement in the shoulders that happens before they go in for the hit."

Nathan snorted. "You've got a lot of experience with that kind of thing, do you?"

"More than I'd care to admit. Most foster parents….let's just say they have fewer scruples than your mum. Some are nice enough," she said, her thoughts wandering back to kind old Mrs. Ainsley. "Other's though…..they don't stop at slaps."

Nathan finally glanced back up at her. On his face she saw a mixture of surprise and pain. "Fuck me," he muttered under his breath. He held out the joint. "I think you need this as much as I do."

Izzy accepted it and took a long drag, immediately handing it back. She held the smoke in her lungs for a few moments before exhaling. The two of them sat there for ten minutes or so not saying a word, silently passing the joint back and forth.

"Shit," Izzy mumbled to herself, staring absently at the shapes forming in the smoke.

"What is it?" Nathan asked through a yawn.

Izzy sighed and looked at him for a few moments as he looked back. She cracked a small smile. "I think we just became friends. How fucked up is that?" Then his face morphed into a wide grin. Izzy decided that she liked it better that way. She pulled herself to her feet and offered him a hand, yanking him up as well. "Well, friend," she said in a forced casual voice, "why don't we go get a pint?"

Nathan's smile grew wider. "Is that another euphemism?"

"No," she replied, rolling her eyes. "It's a beverage."

He bit his lip and stared down at the phone he had been fondling all day. "Maybe another time, love. I've got something I need to do first."

Izzy watched him walk off into the distance, and for some reason it made her fee vaguely sad. She didn't want for him to have to be alone. He was having a rough time of it. For some reason she wanted to see the obnoxious, happy-go-lucky Nathan because, oddly enough, the twat and his twattish behavior put a smile on her face, and she didn't smile very often.

**If you go to my profile you will find links to photos of the appearance of Izzy and of her tattoos.**

**If you catch any mistakes in the British lingo or spelling errors, please let me know.**

**Please review. I would love to know what you think of the story. I try to be a very interactive author, so if there is anything you don't like or any suggestions you want to make let me know! I really just want to make this story as good as I possibly can, and you can help with that!**


	7. The Victim Card

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to AlfieTimewolf, shinelikegold, incitanemxx, Jaygrl22, and MrsSheehanRheon for reviewing! You guys are the absolute best.**

**OK, so I hope this chapter doesn't feel like too much of a filler. I was originally going to finish ep 2 here, but it started getting really long and the ending point seemed to fit. Anyways, I hope you like it. I've had a pretty bad cold, so the creative juices have been dampened, and this is the result.**

Chapter 7 – The Victim Card

This was weird. This was really fucking weird. Finding Nathan fully conscious when she arrived at the community center was strange enough the first time around, but two days in a row? That was a pretty big deviation from normal. Usually she got there about twenty minutes early and found him fast asleep, steeped in a puddle of his own drool and other bodily fluids she really didn't want to think about. Then she had to prod him awake with the toe of her shoe or douse him in water or some shit like that, and he would curse her existence before hauling himself out of his bed-shaped pile of blankets. To sum it all up, he didn't wake up without some serious intervention. Which was why it was so strange that she found him sitting out there on the front steps two days in a row.

As with the previous morning, Nathan was sitting on the front steps of the community center, leaning against the railing, and smoking something that probably wasn't a cigarette. But there was something distinctly different about his appearance this time around. Yesterday he had had a sort of twitchy, manic energy—the kind you get from staying up all night. Some sort of amphetamines had probably played a role as well. Those bloodshot eyes hadn't come out of nowhere. But this time he looked different—sad even. His shoulders were sagging and when she got closer she could see a forlorn look in his eyes. She had seen that look hundreds of times before in the faces of the other kids she had been placed with throughout her years in the system. It was the face of someone who had seen too much.

"Nathan?" she called out hesitantly. He didn't respond. He just sat there, staring out into the distance and drumming his fingers against his knee. This was the most out of character she had ever seen him. The usual jolly version of Nathan was nowhere to be seen, not a single fucking trace, and she found that seriously upsetting for some reason. He had seemed upset last night after his mum had slapped him, but this….this was borderline depression or some shit like that.

"Hey!" she yelled loudly, ripping out one of his earphones, making him twitch slightly. But this time there was no enthusiastic shout of 'Jesus Christ!' or rant about how she shouldn't sneak up on him. He just looked sad, mildly surprised, and pissed. Izzy furrowed her eyebrows and looked down at him. "Are you okay, man?"

"I'm fine," he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Right as rain."

She narrowed her eyes at him and took in his full appearance. He was definitely not fine. She crossed her arms and stared down at him. "Have you suffered from some sort of traumatic incident?"

All of the sudden he looked up at her with a wide-eyed freaked out expression. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded anxiously. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Izzy blinked in shock at the sudden, anxious nature of his response. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to think of how to respond. "It's just—you're actually awake for once. As far as I can tell the only time you bother waking up before 11:00 is when you have to take a leak or when you've been seriously disturbed by something. For example, your naked stepdad running around the car park in the middle of the night."

"Okay, first of all," he said wagging a finger at her, "that pussy is not my stepdad. And secondly, there is nothing wrong. I'm fit as a fucking fiddle."

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure about that?" she inquired suspiciously. "Because you look like crap. And not the 'I partied so hard last night' kind of crap. It's more like the 'I spent the entire night curled up in the shower letting the water wash over me so I can forget what happened' kind of crap." He fidgeted uncomfortably, which made Izzy think that she hit a nerve. She sat down next to him and looked at him hard. "Seriously, man. I'm here, you know. If you need to talk about anyth—"

"What do you want?" he yelled at her, the sound of his voice echoing through the concrete maze that was the Estate. "You want me to give you my fucking biography? Just fuck off and leave me the fuck alone!"

Someone else might have flinched at the violence of his reaction, but over the years Izzy had become desensitized to people blowing up in her face. She just stared at him evenly, not bothering to conceal the anger and bitterness behind her eyes. "You're obviously having a bad day," she said in a low voice, "so I'm going to let that go. But if you ever, _ever_ speak to me like that again, you will regret it. For one reason or another."

"Is that a threat?" Nathan asked in a mocking tone.

Izzy grabbed her bag and hauled herself to her feet so that she could stare down at him. "I guess that depends on you." Then she marched into the community center, fuming and muttering the word 'shithead' under her breath. She stomped through the hallway of the community center angrily, her shoes slapping loudly against the cold linoleum. She noticed Alisha in the office with some policeman, looking bored and vaguely pissed, smacking her gum as usual. She was probably being berated for ignoring her curfew all those times, but Izzy couldn't say for sure. Bored and vaguely pissed seemed to be her neutral expression. Izzy scoffed and kept walking. When she got to her locker and threw her bag in hard, resulting in a very loud clanking noise.

Why did it bother her so much—Nathan's evident depression and obvious hostility? She had gotten so much worse from so many people, she shouldn't be affected by that sort of thing anymore. Hell, this was the first time in years that something someone had said actually bothered her. Why was that? Maybe it was because what Nathan usually said wasn't intended to hurt people. No. That was absolute bullshit. Almost everything he said was geared to hurt people. But it was always humorous, always a joke. It was the kind of stuff she would think of in her head but never say out loud. And it was the kind of stuff that she would always try her best not to laugh at, and fail miserably. What he said on the steps, though—there was no humor there. Just malice and a bit of fear.

Izzy sighed and moved to the sink, splashing her face with water. She put her hands on the sides of the sink and stared at her reflection. Staring into her own two hazel eyes, something occurred to her. Something that she considered to be borderline disturbing. Those few sentences she had spoken to Nathan were the closest she had come in years to actually opening up to another human being, or allowing them to open up to her. Except for Alan that is, but emotional investment in a nine-year-old little brother didn't exactly allow for the same sort of back-and-forth. But of all people, why the hell had she chosen Nathan? Maybe it was because the expression she had seen on his face so much resembled the ones she had se in the mirror over the years. She let out a short sigh of relief. It was probably a good thing that Nathan had shut her down so thoroughly. She had dodged a bullet there.

After wiping up the eyeliner that had smudged under eyes, Izzy turned away from her reflection. She didn't like looking at it for too long. Eventually she grew wearied of what was looking back. Yawning heavily, she exited the locker room saying a silent thank you that she was able to forgo the jumpsuit for the time being. The hordes of geriatrics were coming back for another soiree. Normally Izzy would have dreaded such an event, but Madge was coming and she really needed to kick that old bird's ass in another game of chess. She was just about to round the corner into the main room when she heard a sudden anxious scream coming from somewhere behind her.

"GET OFF ME!" the voice screamed. Izzy could hear the panic echoing through the hallway, and it made her blood run cold.

It was Alisha's voice. And given a scream like that, it could only really mean one thing. Without thinking, Izzy wheeled around and began sprinting back down the hallway, her Converse squeaking against the floor as she ran. Bursting through the door, she saw Alisha pinned to the desk, the policeman forcing himself between her legs. Izzy froze for a moment in horror. The man was trying to undo his fly and was making some allusions to the size of his cock that Izzy wouldn't have bothered mentioning if she was him. He wasn't really inspiring all that much wonder.

Alisha let out another shout which jolted Izzy out of her stupor. Take out the legs. That was what Max—one of her older foster brothers—had taught her. Take out the legs and you take down the man. She moved towards the man, braced her hand on his shoulder, and lifted her leg, smashing her foot down hard at the back of his knee. He crumpled to the ground, but his hands were still grasping the other girl's wrists. He was on his knees, trying to pull Alisha down with him and still spewing a lot of dirty comments. Alisha stared at Izzy with wide, scared eyes, and she nodded back in an attempt to be comforting. She wrapped her arm around the man's neck, bringing him into a headlock, and pulled back, dragging him backwards so that he fell on top of her.

"What the hell?" a male voice demanded, suddenly bereft its nauseatingly lusty overtones. Izzy felt strong arms grabbing her and flipping her over the man's shoulders and slamming her to the ground. The man stood up and stared down at her, fury etched into the lines of his face. Izzy tried to stand up as well, but her head had slammed into the ground and she was feeling really dizzy. She felt a foot press down on her shoulder, forcing her to the floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" the angry voice asked. "An ASBO wasn't enough for you? You want to add assaulting a police officer as well?"

Izzy felt her entire body clench. She couldn't go to jail. She had to be there for Alan. He was turning ten in a few days and she had saved up to buy him that toy robot he wanted and she had to give it to him. She could not go to jail.

"Officer Legrange, what the hell do you think you're doing?" another feminine voice demanded. Izzy looked back to see the upside down figure of probation worker Sally standing the doorway, staring at the policeman with a look of disgust on her face. Alisha brushed out of the room, looking like she was on the verge of tears and holding her hands up as if they were contaminated or something along those lines. The officer was looking around in confusion, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, clearly at a loss of what to say. Eventually his eyes fell on his own exposed cock. His face morphed into an expression of complete shock. He gaped and pointed at his groin. "I have no idea why that's out."

Sally moved into the room and reached down an arm to help Izzy up. "Wait for me outside the room," she said in a quiet voice, grabbing Izzy by the elbow and ushering her out.

Izzy sat on the ground right outside the office, covering her ears to block out the loud, frantic screaming. It gave her bad memories from when she was a kid. It reminded her of all the fights the adults had while she was sitting in the other room, holding onto a teddy bear or covering herself with a blanket wishing for it to all go away. All that was missing was the sound of breaking dishes.

There was a poster on the opposite side of the hall—the one of the little cat with the caption 'Hang In There'. It stood out against the irrepressibly beige walls and was probably meant to cheer up the place—to inspire her and her fellow young offenders to improve themselves—but the effect was quite the opposite. The poster was actually quite depressing. 'Hang in there.' What a fucking joke. That cat was a damned, dirty liar, trying to fool them all with its adorable face and comically large ears. For some reason Izzy couldn't stop staring at it. The upper right-hand corner was pealing off and there was mildew covering part of it. It made her feel like she was staring at a metaphor. The message of hope and endurance was there, but it was rotting and wasting away because of the shitty, dank environment surrounding it. That's the way things worked. Everything good goes to crap eventually. The only way to live life without being constantly disappointed was to lower your expectations.

Soon enough Sally burst out of the room, making Izzy tear her eyes away from that poster. The older woman sighed heavily and covered her eyes. Izzy cleared her throat lightly, and Sally looked down at her in surprise. She had clearly forgotten that Izzy was sitting there. The usually woman looked incredibly tired—bags under her eyes and limp-hanging hair, but after that interaction she looked downright exhausted. "There won't be any charges against you," she said quietly. "After what Officer Legrange did—you were entirely justified in your actions."

Leaning back against the wall, Izzy nodded dumbly. She didn't really feel like having a heart-to-heart with the probation worker, no matter how outwardly kind she appeared to be. With probation workers….there always seemed to be another lecture waiting around the corner.

Sally took a few steps closer to her. "You know—"she began in a gentle tone. Izzy rolled her eyes. Here came the lecture. "Alisha's been through a trauma," she continued. "I'm going to go speak with her now, to try and get things sorted, but usually the young don't like to talk to probation workers about these sorts of things. She might need someone to talk to—someone her own age, I mean. Given your past experiences, you're familiar with that kind of fear. You might be in a better position than anyone else to help her. I think you should consider talking to her about what happened. It might help you s well."

The older woman stood there a few moments, waiting for her to say something. Izzy just raised her eyebrows, causing Sally to sigh in exasperation and walk off in the general direction of the locker room. Izzy groaned and pulled her legs up to her chest. She was so fucking sick of them—the bureaucrats. The probation workers, the social workers, the court-appointed shrinks, they all read her fucking file and assumed that they knew her. They assumed that they understood her, what she had been through, why she behaved the way she did, all of it. A few words on paper and suddenly everything about Isabelle Marie McCallum was known to them. It was fucking bullshit. And Sally was no different from the rest of them. Not that Izzy had expected her to be.

Eventually Izzy stood up and followed Sally to the locker room. By the time that she got there, Sally was long gone and Alisha was sitting there with her head in her hands. Izzy groaned inwardly and moved towards her, leaning against the lockers. "Are you alright?" she asked in a tone that probably could have been quite a bit more comforting.

Alisha looked up with a start, clearly not having heard Izzy's approach. "I'm fine," she said quickly, wiping away the tears that had formed to the corners of her eyes. "Nothing's wrong."

"Don't bullshit me," Izzy replied shortly. "I'm the kungfu master of bullshit. I can smell it a mile away. And rule one is that whenever someone says that they're 'fine', they're definitely not fine."

Alisha looked at her for a moment, her mouth slightly open. It was like she was considering her options. She shook her head and blinked back tears. "Why is this happening to me?" she whimpered.

Izzy shrugged her shoulders casually. "I can't say I know for sure. Storm gives rise to superpowers….I can't say there's all that much precedent for that."

"Why me, though?" she implored earnestly. "Is this my fault? Curtis can turn back time, you can make some stupid fucking force fields, so why did I get stuck with this shit? There has to be a reason!"

Biting her lip, Izzy slammed her head back into the lockers. She was going to play therapist. "Look," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "none of us asked for this, so you can't go around blaming yourself for what's happened. But that being said, I think there's a reason we got the powers we got."

Alisha rolled her eyes heavily and sneered. "How do you figure that?"

"Well," Izzy drawled, "the way I see it, our powers are magnifications of prominent aspects of our personalities. I'm scary and defensive so I make force fields. Simon is insecure and hides in corners like a creepy stalker, so he turns invisible. Kelly is always worrying about what people think, so suddenly she can hear it. Curtis—the whiney bastard—he regrets his past and now he can turn back time? And you—" she said waving in Alisha's direction "—I get the impression that you enjoy the attention of gentleman callers. Your power is just an unfortunate side-effect of that fact."

"Gentleman callers?" Alisha said through a snort. "You sound like my gran."

"She sounds like a smart woman," Izzy smirked back.

Alisha let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. But in reality that's your fancy way of calling me a slut."

Izzy rubbed at her forehead. The victim card. She should have known Alisha had one of those tucked up her sleeve. "You can take my words however the fuck you want to. If you want to be pissed at someone other than yourself after what happened in there—which I understand, by the way—then sure, I called you a slut. On the other hand, maybe I just let you off the hook. Either way it's up to you, because I really don't give a shit."

Alisha narrowed her eyes at Izzy, like she was trying to decide whether or not she was for real. She bit her lip and looked back down at her feet. "What about Nathan? If all of out powers have to do with our personalities, then how come Nathan doesn't have a power?"

"Oh, that's easy," Izzy said, trying to conceal her smile. "It's because he's completely useless."

Alisha let out a genuine laugh and then looked back up at Izzy. "Thanks for saving me in there," she said quietly. "It could have been bad."

Izzy pressed her lips together in a thin line. "No problem." She walked over and sat down next to Alisha. She couldn't believe that she was about to take Sally's advice, but stranger things had happened. "Look, I know that the last thing you want right now is a stranger invading your personal life, but if you ever need to talk to someone—"

Before Izzy could get the sentence out, Alisha had stood up and walked towards the sink, blatantly ignoring what it was that Izzy had just said. The familiar swagger of her walk, the dramatic popping of the hips that made her ass sway right and left, had returned with a vengeance. Izzy watched through furrowed eyebrows as Alisha pulled the mascara out of her purse and began reapplying it. The vulnerability was gone. That mascara was her war paint. It was designed so that you didn't look past it, you just looked at it. Izzy let out a bitter snort. Alisha had gotten the right power. She didn't want people looking at _her_, she wanted them to look at her face. Maybe that was because she thought people wouldn't want to look further, that they wouldn't like what they found. Izzy couldn't quite decide if that made her feel sad or sick.

After a few more fluffs of her hair, Alisha was out the door and on her way to the main hall. Izzy sighed and stood slowly, following her there.

It was kind of funny. Today she had tried to open up to, to invest in, two people, and both times she was completely and utterly shut out. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe she shouldn't bother trying in the first place. After all, people just set you up for disappointment.

Izzy made her way into the main room. All the other ASBO shitheads were already there. Alisha had made a beeline for Curtis, Simon was in a corner filming, Kelly was leaning against a pillar, obviously bored, and Nathan was moping.

Yep, Izzy thought to herself bitterly. People are twats.

**I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but I hope you were! I was hoping to work a little more Alisha and Curtis in. I guess Curtis will have to wait a bit longer.**

**Lots more Nathan and Izzy coming in the next chapter!**

**Please review!**


	8. Aversion Therapy

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to AlfieTimewolf, Phaex, witchbaby300, elemenop22, Dwillis96, callmeoctopus, Sierra Oros, shinelikegold, incitanemxx, and MrsSheehanRheon for reviewing! You guys are the absolute best.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 8 – Aversion Therapy

The scene Izzy was staring at was much like the one she had seen not two days ago. The wrinkly harbingers of her ultimate death had returned to dance, chat, and feast on the remains of petting zoo animals. Or nibble on tea and biscuits. She really had no involvement in the planning of the buffet. The event was rendered complete by dim lighting, music that was most likely first played on a gramophone, and the stuffy smell of mothballs and Bengay.

Oddly enough, everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves. Alisha gave absolutely no indication of the so-called traumatic incident of only a few hours ago. She was dancing and flirting with Curtis, Simon was ensconced in the arm of some old woman, looking even more awkward than ever, and Kelly was doing some sort of ridiculous dance while with an old man in his wheelchair. Izzy, on the other hand, was staying as far away from the dance floor as possible. One toe in and she would probably end up taking someone's eye out, and the last thing this party needed for somebody's gran to be taken away in an ambulance. No, Izzy was exactly where she should be, sitting in that same wheelchair at that same table as the time before, playing chess with Madge. And this time she was kicking the old bird's ass up and down that chess board. The bird was on the defensive, and Izzy was closing in fast.

Everything seemed to be working out just fine. There were no freak storms, no assaults, no explosions, no probation-worker-killing madness, but something still felt distinctly off. And that thing that was off came in the form of a curly-haired Irish boy. Nathan was seriously depressed. There was no other way to put it. He had the distinct air of a puppy who had just been kicked, and no matter how pissed she was at him for how he had behaved to her that morning, Izzy couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She wanted to cheer him up, get him back to his former jovial twat-like self instead of his current moody twat-like self. After all, nobody likes staring at a kicked puppy.

Izzy was busy staring off at him, nibbling her lip and contemplating whether or not she should go over there to talk to him when all of the sudden there was a massive crashing noise, causing her to jump back in shock. Madge had overturned the chessboard, sending the pieces scattering all across the table. Izzy stared at the old woman with wide, surprised eyes, and the woman simply smirked back. "Bloody hell, Madge!" she exclaimed loudly. "Why on earth would you go and do something like that?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders and began examining her nails. "I didn't feel that I was in the best strategic position, so instead I chose to make a move that would render us both equally unsatisfied."

Izzy scoffed dramatically, trying to contain her amusement at the antics. "You're eighty-six, Madge, not eight. This is the kind of thing you pull in primary school."

"That's one way to look at it," she replied. "In my opinion at my age I have earned my right to be a diva and throw a fit whenever something doesn't quite suit me."

"Jesus!" Izzy snorted, no longer able to contain her laughter. "You must be a right fright for those caretakers. How do you get away with that without having them exact some kind of retribution?"

A sly smile spread across Madge's face. "That's easy. All you have to do is look confused and throw out a sentence like 'what year is it?' or 'what am I doing here?' and they melt." She pushed the chessboard out of the way and folded her hands under her chin, leveling Izzy with a penetrating stare. "Now why exactly are you spending all your time with me when there is a handsome young man sitting just over there who is obviously in need of some company?"

Izzy raised her eyebrows at Madge. "Is this your way of getting rid of me? Because all you really had to do was ask."

Madge rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "Izzy, I mean this in the most polite and grandmotherly way possible: get your head out of your arse and go talk to that boy."

"Language, Madge!" Izzy said through a laugh. She glanced over her shoulder at Nathan again. He was still sitting on a chair and staring out at the dance floor with those sad eyes. Izzy turned back to Madge and shook her head. "No, I don't think I will. He's a twat."

Madge leaned over the table and covered one of Izzy's hands with one of hers. "My dear," she said with a meaningful expression on her face, "I am going to tell you something which you would do well to carry with you for the rest of your life. All men are twats. All you can do is find one who is the right type of twat for you."

Izzy shook her head again. "You might want to stop playing Yenta, because you kind of suck at it. Me and Nathan—"

"Nathan and I."

"Thank you, granny spell-check," Izzy said, rolling her eyes. "Nathan and I aren't even friends really. And anyways, he's got himself some gorgeous blonde hidden in a closet somewhere, so even if I was interested—which I'm not—there wouldn't be any point, would there?"

Madge sighed heavily and sat back in her chair. "I always considered blondes to be overrated."

"Spoken like a true brunette."

Madge reached out for her tea and took a long draught, drumming her fingers along the side of the cup in a manner that could only be described as devious. Izzy narrowed her eyes at the woman. She had the suspicious and smug look of someone who had just developed a plan.

"You'll go and speak to him," she said through a sly smile, "or I will tell the shockingly pale fellow that you told me he was highly attractive."

Izzy's eyes widened in horror. "You wouldn't."

The smile widened and reached Cheshire cat-status, and Izzy knew that she had lost the argument. She huffed and wheeled herself away from the table and towards Nathan. When Izzy finally rolled next to him, he didn't bother looking at her. He just rested his hands and stared forwards at the awkward slow dances of their elderly guests. Izzy just sat there for a while, trying to think of something to say and coming up short. It was incredibly awkward. And then 'You're Beautiful' by James Blunt started playing, and, well, that just makes any situation worse than it already is, doesn't it?

"Freaking terrifying isn't it?" Izzy said self-consciously, pointing at the dancers. "One day we'll be them and have our own fuckups to reluctantly dance with us." Nathan gave no indication the he heard her, so she tried a different topic. One in which he had more of a vested interest.

"Do my tits look decent in this top?"

Alright, there was definitely something seriously wrong with him if he ignored a fully sanctioned opportunity to ogle her chest. "Oi!" she shouted, slapping him on the back of the head.

Nathan jumped in his seat and rounded on her. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Izzy demanded through a scoff. "What's wrong with you? You haven't said anything lewd, crude, or sexually explicit all day. You haven't even made fun of Simon. It's starting to freak me out."

"I told you this morning," he muttered angrily, turning back to the dance floor. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you dying?" Izzy blurted out suddenly. "Do you have cancer or something like that?"

Nathan opened his mouth to say something that would no doubt be rude and vaguely hostile, but then suddenly froze like a baby deer. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Izzy followed his gaze and her eyes fell on a kindly-looking elderly woman slowly moving towards the two of them with her walker. She was staring at Nathan with a loving sort of expression that quite frankly creeped Izzy out more than a little bit.

Izzy leaned in towards Nathan. "Do you know her or something?"

And then for some reason he let out a strangled yelp and practically fell out of his chair trying to get away. "What the actual fuck?" Izzy muttered under her breath, craning her neck watch the crazy Irishman sprint across the hall and exit through the back. She made eye contact with an equally confused Kelly and gave her a bemused expression. That was really fucking weird. Izzy could understand an aversion to old people, but Nathan seemed to be taking it a little far.

Shaking her head to reorient herself, Izzy looked again at the old woman. That beatific smile that was on her face moments before had collapsed into a sea of wrinkles, giving her an especially crestfallen appearance. Izzy felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. "Don't mind him," she said with a half-hearted smile. "He was recently lobotomized and lost all capacity for speech."

"Right," the woman said in an absent sort of voice, turning slowly after Nathan. "There was just—there was something I wanted to say to him."

Izzy bit her lip and looked down at the woman, awkwardly shoving her hands in her pockets. "I could take a message or something?" she suggested hesitantly. "We have community service together, so I'm in the vicinity or whatever."

"Yes," she mumbled quietly. "Just—just tell him that I'm sorry for what happened, and that I enjoyed the time we spent together."

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Alright, I guess. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm sure anything bad that happened was a sort of form of Karmic justice. He's kind of a prat." The woman offered up a sad smile in response. Izzy quickly stood up and offered her the chair, which the woman took. "I'm Izzy by the way," she said, giving an awkward wave. "Is there anything I can get you? A cup of tea or something?"

"It's nice to meet you, Izzy. I'm Ruth," she said politely. "And I'm fine thank you, unless you have the map to the Fountain of Youth. I'll just sit for a while."

Izzy nodded and turned away, heading towards the buffet table. It was all so fucking confusing. Why had Nathan reacted that way to a harmless and seemingly nice old woman? And then several realizations all hit her at the same time, making her head hurt and her stomach turn. The girl Ruth from the other day in all her proper 1950s throwback clothes, Nathan's reaction to the word 'traumatized', his reaction to the old woman, the loving expression on the woman's face, the quip about the Fountain of Youth. Her name was 'Ruth' too for fuck's sake, and then there was the storm and Nathan's canine step-dad. All of those little details painted a terrifying image in her mind. Holy fucking shit. Ew. Ew, ew, ew.

It took Izzy a few moments to realize that she had come to a complete stop in the middle of the dance floor with what no doubt appeared to be a slightly crazed expression on her face. She glanced around to see more than one pair of eyes staring in her direction, looking at her like she was completely. She really didn't give a shit about most of them, but when she caught Kelly staring, she bolted. Izzy couldn't get that sick, terrifying thought out of her head, and Kelly would hear it. It wasn't her secret to tell, so she would do her best to keep it. She probably wouldn't be able to keep it from a telepath, though. Once you think something like that, you can't un-think it, no matter how much you wish you could.

Izzy sprinted straight towards the locker room, pausing for a moment to look over her shoulder and seeing Kelly approaching the old woman. Once reaching the locker room, Izzy shivered resolved to stay for the duration of the party. Maybe she would take a shower or something to wash away the creepiness, but that probably wasn't possible at this point. Instead Izzy grabbed her book out of her locker headed for one of the stalls and locked herself in. She pulled out her iPod and shoved the earphones in her ears, blasting the happiest, most upbeat music she could find and started reading. Hopefully that would allow her to escape the knowledge.

Eventually, after about thirty minutes, she heard the rest of ASBO shitheads walk in. She quickly scrambled to her feet, flushed the toilet and tucked her book and music player away, hoping that they would assume she had only just gone to the restroom. She wandered back into the changing room, only to find everyone staring at her, already wearing their government sanctioned shame-suits. She gave them a casual wave and moved towards her locker to get her jumpsuit.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Curtis asked from somewhere over her shoulder. Clearly her clever little ruse hadn't worked. Not that it was that difficult to foil or anything.

Izzy grabbed the bright orange monstrosity and turned around to face him, a slight sneer covering her face. "What do you want? A timetable of all me bodily functions?" she demanded, her voice dripping in sarcasm. "I had to use the toilet, so I used the toilet."

A haughty skeptical look covered his face. "You were using the toilet for a half hour?" he said with a scoff. "That's likely. And where's Nathan?"

Izzy glared at the obvious implication. "Maybe I'm hiding him in my knickers," she spat back, trying to quickly think of a plausible lie. "Maybe he's fucked off back to Ireland. I don't know where the hell he is because I've been suffering from a massive hangover and spent the last forever puking out my guts. Next time I need to vomit, I'll send you a fucking memo."

She brushed past them to change in privacy and found that Kelly followed her. Fuck. She liked Kelly—really, she did—but in that moment she was the absolute last person that Izzy wanted to see.

"You awrigh'?" the other girl asked, a sympathetic expression on her face. "I got some aspirin in mah bag if ya need some."

Izzy plastered a huge smile on her face. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

"Thanks, Kelly, but I've already taken some. I'll meet up with you guys in a minute."

Kelly gave her a curious look, but nodded and left her alone. Izzy changed quickly, picked up her trash bag and litter-picker, and jogged to catch up with the others. As she caught up she realized that probably wasn't the brightest idea, seeing as the same dilemma was awaiting for her. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Think about anything but it. Don't think about it. Kelly kept shooting her strange looks, which was understandable given her train of thought.

Soon enough they came upon Nathan. He was sitting in the dirt, leaning against one of the pillars of the overpass, and holding onto his joint like it was the only thing tying him to sanity. Izzy squinted at him and realized that his hands were shaking. That made sense. She would probably have the shakes too if—Don't think about it. DON'T think about it.

"Oi, what happened to you?" Curtis demanded for the second time, gesturing at Nathan with his litter-picker. Izzy rolled her eyes. He might as well be the frigging probation worker.

Nathan took another puff his joint. "I will not be in a room where that song is playing. Line in the sand."

Izzy hung back as the others approached him, pretending to be very interested in the shards of a broken bottle, poking at them with the toe of her shoe. Kelly, on the other hand, moved to stand right over him. "Oi, there was some old woman looking for you."

The statement caused Izzy to freeze in place. She had managed to shut the thought out, but it was very possible that Nathan's hyperactive brain would not be so diligent. And sure enough, she heard a disgusted shout. "You shagged 'er!"

"Yeah! Yeah, nice one," he said with a sort of awkward, hysterical laugh that made Izzy cringe. "I gave her a right good seeing to!"

Izzy slammed her fist into her forehead. For a self-proclaimed womanizing stud, he couldn't lie for shit. Then again, maybe he never really had to lie before. As far as she could tell he always just blurted out whatever was on his mind. Hell, yesterday he had yelled a confession to murder. No, his ruse wasn't convincing at all. And the others clearly didn't buy it either. Cat's out of the bag now. Izzy abandoned her ill-fated attempt at concealment and walked up to the others.

Alisha let out a cackle of derisive laughter. "You did! You totally screwed her!"

"No," Nathan said in an unconvincing voice.

"You nailed that old woman?" Curtis said with a sneer. "Aw, man. That is wrong."

"Did you enjoy it?" Simon asked, clearly happy with the opportunity for a little bit of retribution.

"Shut up you little freak!" Nathan shouted, pointing an angry finger at him.

Izzy swore inwardly and shoved her hands in her pockets. Fuck. After all that show, after all the effort of not letting Kelly find out from her, Nathan had gone and given it away inside a minute. Suddenly Kelly wheeled around and stared at her.

"You knew?" she said with a look of disbelief on her face. "Is that why you've been finkin' all weird? An' why yous was hidin' in the toilets?"

Izzy shrugged her shoulders awkwardly and nodded.

"Hold on," Nathan said, scrambling to his feet. "How could you know? Did she tell you?"

"No," Izzy said, holding her hands up in submission. "I—I just figured it out, you know? Your reaction to her and then there was the girl from the other day. I just added it up. I tried not to think about it. What you do in your spare time sure as hell isn't any of my business."

"Jesus!" Nathan turned to face the pillar behind him and started slamming his head into it repeatedly into the concrete.

"Are you into that kind of thing?" Curtis asked, a look of revulsion still spread over his face. "Shaggin' grannies?"

"No!" Nathan said turning back to face them and holding his hands out plaintively. "She didn't look like that when we started, okay? Do you remember that bird Ruth, from Tuesday? Beautiful, yeah? That wrinkly old bint – that's her! It was the storm, it made her young again."

"It's true, incidentally," Izzy muttered in a tired voice, rubbing her head to stave off the headache that was beginning to form. "I saw her the other day. Get me drunk enough and I might make a pass at her."

At that statement Nathan did a double-take, suddenly forgetting his current predicament. "Really? 'Cause that's something I'd really like to get in on."

"No not really, you twat!" Izzy said, rolling her eyes and kicking some dirt at him. "I was making a point."

"Okay," Alisha said stepping in front of everyone else, "please tell me you didn't—" And then she proceeded to make an extremely suggestive hand gesture. Alright, not just a hand gesture—the tongue played a fairly prominent role as well. Izzy cringed at Nathan's resultant facial expression, because written across it was a big, resounding, and highly disturbing yes.

The rest of the group, other than herself and Kelly, who was clearly feeling very guilty about the big reveal, burst into a fit of derisive laughter. Nathan's face crumpled into a defeated expression. He took another long drag from his joint, shook his head, and began walking away from them. Izzy considered going after him, but decided that he needed a little space. She knew from experience that when the sting is still fresh in your mind, being alone to come to terms with it is usually the best solace. Kelly, on the other hand, ran after Nathan, presumably to apologize. Though the interchange didn't seem to go all that well seeing as the word 'Granny-focka' was soon echoing across the Estate.

Even after Nathan left, the snickering and mocking continued. Izzy didn't know why it bothered her so much—he had done as much to each and every one of them with less foundation for doing so. Maybe that was why—because the stuff he made fun of was trivial, but for him this was a genuine trauma. Or maybe it was because he wasn't there to defend himself. Either way, by the time they were supposed to leave at the end of the day Izzy found that she had built up enough sympathy to do something that would probably end up being very, very stupid.

About an hour and a half after her community service was through, Izzy found herself back at the community center with a six-pack of lager in hand. Glancing around to make sure that nobody was around, she snuck in through that window Nathan had shown her on their second day. The interior of the community center was dark, quiet, and vaguely creepy. "Nathan?" she called out tentatively. The only response she got was the echo of her own voice bouncing off of those crappy laminated floors. Eventually she made her way to the roof, where she found Nathan lounging in a chair, feet on the table in front of him, and the back of his head looking especially broody. At the sound of the door closing behind her, he turned around.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he muttered angrily. "You lot got to have a right good laugh, but isn't it time to be moving on? 'A rolling stone gathers no moss' and all that shit?"

Izzy snorted lightly, not fazed by his hostility. "I really don't think you're using that right."

"Color me fascinated," he said, turning out to face out across the water. "Remind me again why you're here."

She walked around and dropped the beer on the table in front of him before sitting down and propping her feet up herself. "I figured you probably wouldn't want to talk about it, but you might want to drink about it."

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously before leaning forward and grabbing one. Popping off the top on the armrest of the chair next to him, he drained almost half the bottle in the first swig.

"It's not a race," Izzy said, reaching for a beer of her own. Nathan just rolled his eyes and took another large gulp. Izzy sipped on hers for a moment, sighing lightly as she enjoyed the feeling of the liquid pouring down her throat.

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Izzy understood that. Sometimes you don't want to talk, but you don't want to be alone either. So she decided that she was going to just sit there and drink her beer. If was a race, Nathan was definitely winning. She was about three-quarters through her first by the time he was polishing off his third. Izzy stared off in the distance, watching the sun sink down over the Estate, casting pink and orange colors across the sky and feeling the light buzz of the alcohol invade her body. This was her favorite time of day. It was the only time when everything didn't look so fucking depressing.

Yawning, she turned to look at Nathan and found him staring at her with a curious expression on his face. She folded her arms across her chest defensively. "What?" she said in an unfriendly voice.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He used the same words as before, but the question was different.

Izzy shrugged. "You've had a really shitty week. You have the right to get shit-faced. If you want to talk, you can talk. If you don't want to talk, then….whatever. I like beer and the roof has a good view. There are worse ways to spend my time."

Nathan nodded weakly and let his head lean back so that he was staring straight up. He let out a loud, drawn-out groan that was highly reminiscent of one belonging to a small child told to eat their vegetables. Izzy laughed lightly and shook her head in disbelief. "It's not the end of the world, you know. You'll live to shag another day."

"That's easy for you to say!" he exclaimed loudly. "You're not the one who had to live through it. One second she was there, beautiful, perky tits bouncin'—" he saw fit to add in a visual aid at that point "—and then all the sudden, WAM! There's this wrinkly old woman moanin' on top of me. It was—"

He couldn't finish the sentence, shivering in disgust. "She took advantage of me," he muttered bitterly. "It was bloody horrible thing to do to another person."

"Oh, please," Izzy snorted. "Can you honestly tell me that if you were in her position, you wouldn't do the exact same thing? It's not like she knew she would switch back mid-orgasm."

Nathan leaned forward and opened his mouth to respond. "N—" Izzy raised her eyebrows at him, making him falter. "Okay, fine. Yes. I would absolutely do the same thing. I'd find some drunk, impressionable girl and shag her brains out."

"Then you can't judge her too harshly," Izzy said, taking another sip of her beer. "Anyways, I think you running away from her at the dance was retribution enough. She took it pretty hard."

To her surprise Nathan blinked, looking unexpectedly guilty. His pensive, broody face returned, making Izzy squeeze her eyes shut in frustration. She found broody Nathan even more grating than regular Nathan, and she wanted out. He had talked—there was a breakthrough—and now it was getting late. The sun was quickly disappearing below the horizon.

Draining the last of the bottle, Izzy stood up and stretched. Nathan looked up at her with big eyes. "Where are you going?"

"It's getting late," she said through a yawn, "and I've got to get home before curfew. Help yourself to the rest of the beer. Try not to wallow so much. It'll prematurely age you, and we don't want this to turn into some crazy cycle or something. That would be really disturbing."

Izzy grabbed her bag and strode towards the door, yanking it open. Before she stepped through, she heard the word 'thanks' shouted from somewhere behind her. She smiled and stepped forward, slamming the door behind her. What a fucking day. And it would all start over tomorrow.

On her way out, Izzy stopped by the locker room. She had forgotten her book in her locker, and her social life was uneventful enough that that was the way she would be spending her evening. She unlocked it and hit that area directly underneath the latch that always unjammed it. The door swung open like it always did, but then she saw something that made her blood run cold. Taped on the inside of the door was a flyer with Tony's photo on it, and crudely scrawled across were the words 'I KNOW'. With shaking hands, Izzy grabbed the book and slammed the locker closed, sprinting out of the community center as quickly as she could. She couldn't deal with this tonight. She would be just as fucked tomorrow as she was now.

**So there's episode 2. I hope you guys liked it. I really had fun writing it. You'll get to know more specifics about Izzy's past during the next 'episode' which should take place over 3-4 chapters.**

**I hope I did my part the Nathan dialogue okay. It's not exactly what I would say in a situation, but I'm trying to keep it as in-character as possible.  
**

**Also, I know Izzy seems kind of rude, especially to Curtis, but she really doesn't like him all that much for reasons to be revealed later on, probably around ep 4 seeing as that's the one that features him heavily. And at that point they'll probably come to an understanding.  
**

**As usual, please inform me as to any errors in slang you might see.**

**Also, please review. It makes me very, very happy.**

**Until next time!**

**It Belongs In A Museum**


	9. Cavemen vs Astronauts

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

**Thanks to Alfie Timewolf, witchbaby300, Phaex, incitanemxx, Guest, shinelikegold, Persephone Price, Meg, and Red red red ribbon for reviewing!**

Chapter 9 – Cavemen vs. Astronauts

When Izzy left the community center, she had been absolutely terrified. That threatening note in her locker—the words 'I KNOW' written across the photo of Tony the probation worker—it had seriously freaked her out. She didn't plan on mentioning a word of it to the others until the lot of them returned to the community center. There wasn't any point to it really. What could any of them do? In fact, as she walked into the locker room that morning, she wasn't sure that she was going to tell them at all. It was like Nathan had said when they found the first note: whoever left it didn't have any real proof, just speculation. If everybody knew about it, they would probably panic and end up confessing or some shit like that. But when she finally did manage to make it into the locker room, that idea was completely done away with.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she demanded angrily upon seeing all her fellow delinquents crowded around her own, personal, very open locker.

"Did ya see dis?" Kelly asked anxiously, gesturing at the photo that was still pinned to the inside of her door. "Somebody put dis 'ere last night. That note in Curtis's locka, it wos talkin' about da probation workah."

"Yeah," Izzy said angrily, throwing her bag on the floor, "did any of us seriously think otherwise? I think the real question here is which one of you dickheads broke into my locker. I know that we're all criminals here, but Jesus fucking Christ! How about a little solidarity?"

Nathan's face morphed into a completely unapologetic smirk. "Sorry, love, I needed some toothpaste. Didn't feel like dropping by the shop. And I got to read up on toxic shock syndrome," he said, waving around her box of tampons. "You ladies should really be taking care of yourself down there because this shit seems serious. No bloke will want to shag you after something like that."

Izzy stared at him angrily. After everything she had done for that dick—after keeping his secrets and going with him to see his mum—he roots around through her stuff. Not that she kept anything all that personal here, but it was the principle of the thing. It was fucking unacceptable. "Why the fuck would I be keeping toothpaste here," she retorted in a threatening tone, snatching the box away from him. "It's not like I live in the community center."

Nathan narrowed his eyes at her and opened his mouth to say something hostile, but Kelly cut him off. "Aw, would yous guys stop with da fockin' arguin'!" she groaned loudly. "Someone knows we killed 'im."

"Do you think it could be Sally?" Simon asked in his usual quiet, timid voice.

"Who's Sally?" Curtis asked

"She's the probation worker," Simon mumbled.

"Ooh, Sally," Nathan said, leering at Simon. "Why do you know her name?"

"Because she told us, you prick," Izzy said, rolling her eyes. "Not all of us have the attention span of a newborn puppy."

Nathan glared at her a moment before continuing. "Well you two are both twats because 'Sally'," he said using air quotes, "she didn't show up till the day after we killed our probation. I suppose you know his name too."

"It's Tony," she and Simon said at the same time.

"Do you love him," Nathan said mockingly, pointing between Izzy and Simon. "Is this some sort of freaky three-way thing? Because honestly, Ginger, I think you should be raisin' your standards a little bit. Maybe someone taller, more handsome, and incredibly entertaining."

"I hope you're not talking about yourself," she muttered, slamming her locker door closed.

And then for some reason a look of mild disappointment crossed Nathan's face. Or at least she thought she saw one. It was so fleeting that it might as well have never happened, but why on earth would her brain bother imagining something like that? There was only one conclusion that made any sort of sense. She was going mad. Completely, irrevocably, raving mad. Nathan's usual smirk found its way back to his face and he leaned against the lockers. "Don't flatter yourself, love. You're not my type. Far too uptight and repressed."

"Oh, how will I survive," she quipped, placing a hand over her heart. "I suppose the only comfort I have left to hang on to is the fact that I managed to miss out on all of those venereal diseases cooking in your pants."

And then for some reason, the two of them ended up grinning at each other. Why was it that they always ended up laughing whenever they threw insults at each other? Was this some seriously fucked up version of flirting? No, that couldn't be it. Izzy was shit at flirting—far too hostile and standoffish—and more importantly why would she be flirting with Nathan? She didn't even like the twat. Then again, she didn't really like anyone, she just tolerated some more easily than others.

Kelly scoffed loudly, making both of them turn to her. "He's right about da probation worka," she said, giving them both an annoyed look. "She wosn't 'ere."

"If I'm invisible I can see if anyone else puts something in our lockers," Simon suggested hesitantly.

Curtis nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds like a plan." And then he turned to leer at Alisha who was, as usual, reapplying her makeup. "You alright with that?" he asked, putting on his 'sexy face'—the one where he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue a little. Izzy crinkled her nose a bit. In her opinion the expression just made him look drunk and vaguely constipated. But it seemed to work just fine for Alisha, so who was Izzy to judge?

"Works for me," Alisha said with a sly sort of smile, pursing her newly glossed lips.

"Go on then," Curtis said to Simon, still ogling Alisha. "Turn invisible."

Poor Simon looked even more awkward than usual as everybody turned to stare at him. Izzy fought hard against the urge to laugh as he looked between them all with large, frightened eyes. He looked like a baby deer. Or a puppy. Or some other adorable but pathetic creature that you really want to take care of even though it probably has mange. "I can't do it when everyone's watching," he muttered, staring at his feet.

"So I guess it's like pissin' at a urinal if you've got a tiny cock?" Nathan said with wide, mocking eyes.

"Oi," Izzy said, smacking him in the stomach and turning to go out the door. "At least he has a cock to piss with. Within the context of this metaphor, your powerless self has been castrated."

"Hey," Nathan shouted through a grimace, jogging after her, "don't even joke about that, man. It's worse than dyin'."

When he caught up to her, Nathan draped an arm over her shoulders. Izzy rolled her eyes, but this time didn't bother pushing him away. The lot of them were finally rounded up by some attractive and only mildly annoying do-gooder who had them sorting through clothes to send to Africa. It took about thirty seconds for Alisha to get started with the eye-fucking and Curtis, the twat, stared on looking more than a little bit jealous. What happened to subtlety? Apparently romance was about as dead as Alisha's sense of self-respect.

Soon enough they were all dragging large, heavy trash bags filled with clothes as the do-gooder prattled on about the difference they were making in these people's lives. Because what people living in sub-Saharan hamlets really needed were high heels and three-piece suits. Izzy yawned heavily as they entered the main room and stood there waiting for the bloke to wrap up his monologue. "….So if you've got any questions," he finished, turning to the group with an annoyingly self-satisfied smile on his face, "just ask."

Nathan's hand shot up into the air and he started waving it around like a small kid on some a sugar high. "If a bear and shark had a fight," he asked, placing his hands on his hips dramatically, "who would win?"

Izzy snorted and shook her head. "That's a ridiculous question, Nathan," she said, poking him in his side. "They two obviously have different advantages in different settings. Better question: if cavemen and astronauts got into it, which one would win?"

"Nice one," he said excitedly, holding his hand up for a high-five, which she studiously ignored. "Do the astronauts get laser beams?" he asked waving his hand in front of her face.

"No," Izzy said, slapping his hand away, "that would be an unfair advantage."

The guy just stood there staring at them, gaping slightly, like they were a pair of idiots. Which, in all fairness, they probably were. "If you've got any _relevant_ questions, just ask," he said, in a patronizing voice, turning to leave the room. "Oh," he said over his shoulder, "and if it's on dry land, I'd bet on the bear."

"Cavemen or astronauts?" Izzy shouted back at him, but the only response was the slamming of the door. "Prick," she muttered under her breath.

Turning back to the pile of clothes, all of which on first glance seemed to be varying degrees of hideous, a smirk covered her face. She took off at a breakneck pace and jumped into the massive pile of clothes, moving her arms and legs like she was trying to make a snow angel. A few moments later she head a muffled call of 'watch out' and suddenly was being crushed underneath a deceptively heavy Irish man. "Get the fuck off of me!" she said, unable to fully conceal her laughter, shoving him aside. "If your hand gets any closer to my breasts you'll be pulling back a bloody stump."

"You can't do that," he said through a grimace. "That's my wanking hand!"

"Jesus," she said wrinkling her nose and throwing an old, wrinkled shirt at him, "that would be tragic. You'd never be able to get off ever again."

He sneered back. "I don't think so. Even with one hand the ladies couldn't stay away from all this," he said, gesturing to himself.

Things largely devolved from that point on. Clothes were flying everywhere, Alisha was screeching giddily as Curtis threw her in the pile of clothes, and Kelly had managed to find herself a truly atrocious pair of yellow trousers. Nathan was spending more than a little bit of time searching out every single bra in the pile and draping it over Izzy's head and shoulders, usually accompanied by the phrase, "come on, love, let's have us a show." She was not above retaliation of course, having more than once yanked a pair of the world's largest pants over his head, squashing his curls and muttering 'who's the panty sniffer now?' in an obnoxious, sing-song voice.

It took about twenty minutes before they started doing anything even mildly productive. She and Nathan had resumed the cavemen vs. astronauts debate, which lasted much longer than what any well-adjusted human being could be considered 'normal'. Nathan of course came down on the side of cavemen, which Izzy maintained was due to the fact that he was one. He said she sided with astronauts because she was an elitist snob. He hadn't phrased it that politely of course. The argument finally came to a close when there was a collective shout of 'SHUT UP!' from the rest of the group.

The resultant silence lasted for about thirty seconds before Nathan held up a ski boot. "Check this out, man. Ski wear. Classic. Try walking ten miles to the well in these."

"I don't know," Izzy said, throwing another shoe at him, "I think these skank-boots might prove a bit less practical."

"Why don't you take them home with you," he said, throwing the shoe back. "If you wore these people might stop thinkin' you're a lesbian."

Izzy was about to retort again, when Nathan was suddenly distracted by a pair of ski goggles. He really did have the attention span of a newborn puppy. "Hey, hey, hey," he said, pulling on the goggles, "who am I?" And then he proceeded to make a sound that sounded to her like someone had thrown their pet into a dryer.

"It's like an AM radio has been shoved into my brain," she muttered, covering her ears.

"Who am I?" he asked again, spreading his arms wide.

"Somebody who still hasn't found what he's looking for?" she said through a yawn.

"She gets it!" he declared, snapping his fingers and pointing at her in appreciation. "How about the rest of you? Come on! Alright, I'll give you a clue. I'm an annoying cunt."

"Yeah, we know that," Alisha said through a snort. Izzy didn't bother trying to hide her laugh.

"I'm Bono!" Nathan said, throwing his hands up in frustration. All he got in return was a bunch of blank, bored looks. His parade of self-pity was interrupted when all the sudden the doors banged open and Sally wanders in with a surly looking girl wearing a cap wandered in. "Who's that?" Nathan asked in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning inwards.

"It's dis girl I had a fight wiv," Kelly said in a particularly unhappy voice. "I've got to do some restorative justice bollocks wiv 'er."

Izzy snorted, taking in the girl's appearance. "It doesn't look like she's in the mood for much restoration."

As the two women approached, Nathan called over to them. 'Hey, hey! Bono, right?"

Sally made a face. "What?"

Nathan scoffed and threw his hands up in the air again. "I don't know why I bother."

"None of us know why you bother," Izzy replied quickly.

Kelly got dragged to the office after Sally and that girl Jodi, looking none too happy about it, leaving Izzy there with only Nathan, Alisha, and Curtis. This was going to be fantastic. The last dose of sanity had left the room, everything from here on was going to be even more ridiculous than before. Izzy snorted to herself. It was pretty ironic that the bar for sanity was set by a chav with anger management issues and a skinny, pale pyromaniac, but that was the way of it now. Between Nathan being Nathan and the weird, creepy flirting between Curtis and Alisha, this was going to go to shit really, really quickly.

Actually it only ended up taking about five seconds, because the self-righteous charity guy wandered in and saw Alisha holding up this rather cute polka dot dress. "Suits ya," he said with a flirty smirk on his face. And then Alisha started…..glowing? Izzy shook her head. She found it rather sad, this dependence on male attention. But then again, she really didn't have much to say for her strategy with the opposite sex. They weren't exactly lining up at her door, and they seemed to flock to Alisha in droves. She had noticed that incredibly disappointed look on Curtis's face. Fuck it. She didn't need that sort of attention. The way she saw it, those mindless hook-ups were just another way for people to use each other and then throw one another away, and she had been on the receiving end of that sort of thing enough for a lifetime.

"Hey, check it out!" Nathan said holding up a pair of roller skates and pulling them on, nearly falling on his arse as he tried to stand up.

Izzy gave him a dubious look. "That's not going to end well, you know."

"Shut it, Ginger," he said, scrambling up to his feet. "I'm fucking graceful." He started skating around the room, singing some operatic nonsense. Izzy smiled at his antics. He was a twat, but he never failed to entertain. How did he manage that? She had been seriously pissed at him this morning and now—shit. She actually kind of liked the guy, and she didn't like anybody. He actually was her friend. Whether or not she was his friend was another matter entirely, but he was hers. How the fuck had that happened?

After he skated by the office, Sally burst out the door. "Take off the skates!" she shouted. "And the goggles! Take them off!"

Nathan began grumbling angrily and ended up tripping in the skates and falling face-first into the clothing pile. "Oh yeah," Izzy said as he rolled over, groaning, "you're graceful alright. You're a fucking ballerina. I'm going to start calling you twinkle toes." She started rooting around in the pile of clothes. "I think there's a pair of tights in here that might suit you."

"Aw, come on, love," he said smirking at her. "You don't need me to put on some tights. If you want a better look at my cock all you have to do is ask."

"Sorry," she said shrugging her shoulders in a bemused way, "I don't think I could handle the disappointment."

"Hey, there is no disappointment here," he said, pulling a white blazer on over his shoulders. "I've never had any complaints."

Ignoring him, Izzy grabbed a sequined monstrosity of a shirt, complete with shoulder pads, and pulled it on over her head. She was staring at her own ridiculous reflection in the window and performing some dated dance moves when loud, angry screams started echoing through the hall. "What the f—"

The girl Jodi burst out of the room screeching "YOU SLAG WHORE!" at the top of her lungs. Then a chair whizzed by as Kelly chucked it after her. "I was tryin' ta be nice!" she shouted after the girl.

"Great job, then," Izzy said, giving her a thumbs up. "You guys look like you've done some proper bonding."

Kelly groaned and stomped off out of the community center fuming, presumably to go smoke another cigarette, leaving the rest of them staring at each other with surprised, amused expressions on their faces. Curtis snorted loudly. "I think that went pretty well."

"Well," Izzy said, ripping off that horrifying shirt, "seeing as there is no responsible adult to monitor our behavior, I'm going for a drink."

When she reached the roof she saw Kelly sitting in one of the chairs, smoking a cigarette as expected. Izzy wandered over and collapsed on the sofa next to her. "Sooooo," she drawled, popping open her drink, "I don't think you did yourself any favors down there. I'm pretty sure they have files and shit to mark down that sort or thing. And bloodying a girl's nose in front of a probation worker doesn't exactly qualify as good behavior."

Kelly suddenly sat up straight and squared her shoulders. "I don' give a shit about any 'good behaviah'," she said, pointing an angry finger at Izzy. "That bitch had it comin'! I was only tryin' ta be nice!"

Izzy laughed lightly. "Yeah, I could really read the subtext between the yelling and the chair throwing. It was really subtle." Kelly collapsed back in the chair, folding her arms and looking really upset. Izzy sighed and stood up, handing her the extra drink. "So how did you trying to be nice end up in a fist fight?"

Kelly didn't answer, instead just sipping at the drink and staring off into the distance. It was too soon. "You got a cigarette?" she asked suddenly. "Mine are all gone, and I could really fockin' use one right now."

Digging a hand into her pockets, Izzy pulled out the crumpled pack that had been there the past few days and handed one over to Kelly. The girl took it gratefully and lit it, taking a long drag. She leveled Izzy with a curious stare. "You gonna have one, yeah?"

"Nope," Izzy said shaking her head. "I don't smoke."

"Then why do ya have 'em?"

Izzy shrugged her shoulders and brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I like the smell," she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "When I was a kid, old Mrs. Ainsley used to smoke them when we would stay up late watching the telly and—I don't know. Ever since then the smell had just been comforting I guess. It reminds me of those nights. The hippocampus is associated with your sense of smell, so—"

"The hippo-wha'?" Kelly demanded, gaping at her a bit.

"It's the part of your brain associated with memory," Izzy mumbled self-consciously. She must sound like such a prat right now. She should have jus kept her fucking mouth shut, but she had never had much of a filter.

"Shit," Kelly said raising her eyebrows. "So you're like propa smart aren't ya?"

Izzy just shrugged and started gulping down her drink, trying to avoid the question. She really didn't like talking about that sort of thing—education and all that. In her experience, it was absolutely miserable. When she was in primary school she had just been so bored in classes, and the other kids had thought she was so strange—she hadn't had many friends. Or any, for that matter. And then she had gotten that scholarship and she thought everything would be better, but she had just turned into a different type of outcast. She had gone from 'freak' to 'charity case'. She had spent a while trying to fit in with those rich twats, but then she had said 'fuck it', gotten those tattoos and started wearing the heavy eye-liner. And now that she was in community service she had rounded out their stereotype for them. Fucking stuck-up bastards.

Sensing her discomfort, Kelly quickly changed the subject. "So wha' do ya fink o' Alisha and Curtis?"

"Oh, they'll be fucking by the time the weeks out," Izzy said nodding enthusiastically.

They stayed up there for another fifteen minutes or so before Izzy wandered down to get another drink. She was passing by the locker room when she heard shouting coming from inside, and as she approached it Curtis burst out the door, seething in anger. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her for a few moments. "Not a fucking word," he said, jabbing his finger at her before brushing past, knocking her hard in the shoulder and making her collide with the wall.

Izzy blinked in confusion and took a few steps forward and peered in through the crack in the door to see Alisha standing there among all the dirty tiles with her jumpsuit unzipped. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Curtis had just been raped. How fucked up was that? And in the community center locker room? That had to be unsanitary on so many levels. But it wasn't her business. It was nothing to do with her, and she would be happy to never, ever think about it again. The locker room? Romance really was dead. Izzy dodged behind the soda machine, waiting for Alisha to vacate before revealing herself and darting into the locker room. It wasn't long before everybody else filed in.

"Great restorative justice," Nathan said, trailing behind Kelly.

"I wos only sayi' tha the lad she used to go out wiv wos a dick," Kelly huffed.

"Well I don't see any way that that could end badly," Izzy added, yanking her locker door open. "I know I would love to hear that I'm attracted to twats."

"I wos only bein' nice," Kelly insisted again.

"Oh yeah," Nathan returned, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "You were bein' lovely. Right up until you threw that chair at her. Or when you punched her in the face. One of those. Then there was the part where you called her a bitch. I'm just spit-ballin' here."

Izzy felt herself start to laugh when Curtis suddenly let out a yelp that didn't exactly qualify as manly. She whipped around to see Simon standing there, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Curtis took a steadying breath and leaned against the lockers. "Don't be doing that shit around me!" he yelled, waving an angry finger at Simon. Izzy smirked to herself, waiting for Curtis to realize something glaringly obvious. She nodded lightly as the look of comprehension crossed his face. "You been here all day?"

"Yep," Simon said with a little creepy smile covering his face. Izzy shook her head. She knew it. All that filming with his phone—Simon definitely had a voyeuristic streak in him.

"Wha 'appened?" Kelly asked from behind her.

Simon continued to stare at Curtis with that knowing smile. "Nothing. Noone came in."

Nathan gasped dramatically and assembled his features into an expression of fake shock. "That's an anticlimax!"

Nathan and Kelly both turned to their lockers, but Curtis kept looking between her and Simon with a worried expression. Izzy sighed heavily. She really didn't like Curtis—he struck her as a whiny, self-righteous prick—but it was his secret to keep. She pressed her lips together in a thin smile and nodded. She could see him unclench a bit in relief.

After having changed, Izzy went to the vending machines to get a packet of crisps. Groaning, she leaned her forehead into the glass before punching in the appropriate buttons. She stared absently as that little spiral moved and dumped her prize at the base of the machine. She leaned down to pick it up, and when she stood straight, she found herself face-to-face with Nathan.

"Jesus!" she screamed, jumping back a few steps. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Can't help it, love," he replied, kissing one of his biceps. "I'm stealth."

Izzy rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her loose hair. "Right," she mumbled, "remind me of that next time you face plant in a pile of smelly clothing."

She expected him to say something back, but he just stood there, staring at her with a curious sort of expression. Feeling significantly awkward, she folded her arms over her chest and shrugged her shoulders. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "I just figured, after the other day I owe you a beer."

"Technically you owe me five."

"Whatever, man," he said shifting on his feet. "They've got some locked up in the kitchen and I figure it's only fair…."

Izzy narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you trying to get me drunk so you can get into my knickers?"

"Maybe," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Would it work?"

"Well," Izzy said punching him in the shoulder lightly, "I really am very flattered, and the presentation of the request was really, really difficult to resist, but I've got somewhere I've got to be."

Walking out the community center, nibbling on her crisps, Izzy glanced in her bag. Inside sat that little toy robot. It hadn't been wrapped or anything like that—she hadn't had the time—but wrapping paper or no, restraining order or no, Alan was getting that little blue and red robot that he had wanted so much. She could just imagine the look on his face. No, she would have to imagine it, because she wouldn't get to see it. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that Alan got his present on his birthday. A small smile tugged at the corner her lips as a tiny bubble of genuine joy formed in the pit of her stomach.

Izzy rounded the corner of the community center and began to walk across the Estate. When she looked up from her feet she saw something that stomped out that little bubble right where she stood. Men—construction workers—were milling about under the flyover, taking all sorts of measurements. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. When would it ever end?

**OK, I'm actually pretty unhappy with this chapter. I feel like it jumps around a lot, especially with everything going on in the ep, and I'll probably end up re-writing it at some point. Anyway, I hope you like it.**

**I did finally start hinting at Izzy/Nathan feelings here and some Izzy background.**

**A big thank you to everyone helping me out with the dialogue and stuff. I really appreciate it. **

**Please review and tell me what you think! Anyway, love you guys!**

**It Belongs In A Museum**


	10. Gag Reflex

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to witchbaby300, incitanemxx, Sunflowers in Moscow, shinelikegold, NBaptiste, Lady Shagging Godiva, Phaex, Zeroko, and casscass09 for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

Chapter 10 – Gag Reflex

The next day, Izzy overslept. That happened to her sometimes, ever since she was a kid. If there was something genuinely terrifying or anxiety-provoking going on in her life, her body would sort of shut itself down and she would sleep soundly for something like fourteen hours straight. Alan with his little robot obsession had referred to it as 'powering down' and had taken to sticking pencils up her nose while she was unconscious. Usually it served as a pretty good coping mechanism—dull the pain, block out the noise and all that—but given the fact that she was on a deadline this time, it was a pretty fucking big inconvenience.

"Shit, shit, shit," she kept chanting as she flew around the room, flinging things into her bag and tripped over her own feet while pulling on her shorts, shoes, and socks. Wrenching open one of her cabinet doors, she shoved a piece of dry toast in her mouth and began pulling back her hair while running out the door. The bread only temporarily stemmed the steady stream of curses trying to force their way out of her mouth as she ran—or rather sprinted—to the community center.

She didn't have the breath to say it out loud while she was running, but her profane mantra continued in her head all the way to the community center. They were going to dig up the bodies. It wouldn't happen today, though. She had spent over an hour the previous night scouring the internet for construction projects and timetables across the Estate, and they had at least 36 hours of freedom left. They were still wading through a giant quagmire of shit, but they might at least be able to make it to the other side. They would be dirty and stinky and probably more than a little bit traumatized, but they might just make it, and that was something. And before she passed out on that dirty, old mattress of hers, it occurred to Izzy that if there was one thing to be thankful for, it was the inefficiency of government-run projects. For once the bureaucracy was working in her favor.

When she finally got there, she practically skidded into the locker room and collided heavily with the giant wall of metal, giving rise to a loud clanging noise. Izzy swore under her breath and rubbed at her shoulder as pain blossomed and radiated up her arm. That arm had been dislocated so many times, even the slightest impact could result in agony. Izzy winced as she probed the area with her finger, feeling around the edges of the socket. She would be okay, but that was definitely going to bruise.

"Would you chill out?" a voice said from around the lockers. Rolling her shoulder to work out the pain, Izzy groaned and turned to see Alisha glaring at her in the mirror, smacking her gum. The girl cocked her head to the side and rolled her eyes at Izzy, her expression oozing disdain. "Ya almost made me smudge my mascara."

Izzy let out a derisive snort and glared back. After the events of the previous day between her and Curtis, any sort of sympathy Alisha had accrued in Izzy's eyes had evaporated entirely. "That would be a real tragedy, now wouldn't it?" she muttered, folding her arms across her chest. "We'd have to alert the authorities for that one."

Alisha bit at the inside of her cheek and narrowed her eyes at Izzy muttering 'bitch' just loud enough for Izzy to hear. Izzy ignored the jab and quickly grabbed her jumpsuit out of her locker. "Where are the others?" she asked while pulling the orange fabric over her legs.

"The roof," Alisha replied shortly. "Now will ya let me finish up here, yeah?" She looked Izzy up and down, taking in her messy ponytail and slightly sweaty face, and curled her lip. "Some of us actually give a shit about what we look like."

Izzy let out a light laugh. For a sociopathic, rapist slut, Alisha did seen awfully comfortable judging other people. It was by all the wrong criteria, but still. Izzy sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, and burst through the door to the roof. Kelly and Simon at the very least would be interested enough to

"So I think that we should probably take the time to discuss how royally fucked we are right now."

The response this sweeping declaration received wasn't exactly what Izzy had expected. In that there was absolutely no response at all. Simon and Kelly weren't even there yet. Curtis was lying on the couch with one leg dangling off and an arm thrown over his eyes to shield his eyes from the sun, looking like he was in the throes of the world's worst hangover. After the trauma that was yesterday, who could really blame him? And then Nathan…..his face was scrunched up, his body was contorted, he was making strange grunting noises—

"Is he having a fit or something?"

"Shut up, Ginger!" Nathan shouted, snapping his fingers at her, but his eyes never left the bottle in front of him for some reason. "Men working here, best keep to yourself."

Izzy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Wha—"

"He's tryin' to figure out what his power is," Curtis mumbled, arm still over his face.

"Constipation is a power now?" she asked, walking up to them and collapsing in the chair opposite Nathan. "Well, alert Marvel comics because I think we found them a new X-man. We could call you 'Faecus'. That's got a good ring to it—"

Curtis's shoulders shook with silent laughter and Izzy smiled a bit as well when the door burst open a second time revealing an incredibly flustered looking Simon. "We've got a problem," he said anxiously. Izzy nodded. Apparently she wasn't the only one in on their impending doom any more.

"Would you shut up!" Nathan exclaimed waving a hand at him. "I nearly had it. I swear with the two of you always interrupting it's like trying to have a wank while I was still livin' with my mum. I nearly had it that time."

"What's he doing?" Simon asked in a voice that sounded even more confused than before.

"He's tryin' to smash a bottle with his mind," Curtis's voice responded. The noises coming from Nathan's mouth became louder and more strained, causing Curtis to sit up and look at him with an expression of slightly disgusted disbelief. "I think he's gonna shit himself."

Izzy smirked and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Probably wouldn't be the first time."

Nathan finally let out a frustrated growl and kicked at the table, sending the bottle flying away and causing it to shatter on the ground in a million tiny glistening shards. "Man, this is bullshit!" he shouted.

"We've got a problem—" Simon to tried to repeat, but he was once again cut off by Nathan's tantrum.

"I've got a power, I know it!" the mad Irishman exclaimed angrily. "I can feel it in my balls! It's like a soft vibrating," he continued turning to Curtis. "You get that, yeah?"

Curtis looked back at him with a blank stare. "No."

"They're going to dig up the bodies!" Simon finally managed to get out.

All the sudden the two others wheeled around, suddenly at attention. Izzy on the other hand sat back in her chair and propped her feet up on the card table in front of her sighing heavily. "Penny drops," she muttered under her breath.

"Their building an environmental monitoring station under the flyover," Simon continued, having everyone's full attention for once.

"That sounds made up," Nathan responded, looking at Simon with suspicion and this time only a little bit of mockery. "Are we actually supposed to know what that thing is?"

"It measures the carbon monoxide coming from the exhaust fumes of the cars on the flyover," Izzy said, standing up and moving to stand next to Simon—a gesture of solidarity or something. She rubbed at her forehead in frustration. "I always knew global warming would manage to fuck me over," she mumbled bitterly. "I just never expected it would choose such a round-about way of doing so."

Simon nodded enthusiastically and almost pathologically from his position next to her. "When they dig up the foundations, they'll find the bodies," he whispered conspiratorially. He leaned in and gave each of them a piercing look. "We have to do something or we'll get caught."

"I think we're all in agreement about that one," Izzy said, nodding some more. "The only question is what."

"How is it that the two of you know about all this," Nathan asked accusingly, pointing between them. "Are you having some kind of secret, illicit affair or something? 'Cause it's like I told you before, love. Time to raise your standards."

Izzy smacked his hand out of her face for what felt like the hundredth time. How was it that she actually enjoyed his company? If you looked up 'twat' in the dictionary, his picture would be right next to the definition and the name 'Nathan Young' would make an appearance in the list of synonyms.

"Stop dicking around for like 24 hours, will you?" she responded. "This is kind of a serious situation. We're all in this and you—" she waved her finger in his face "—you won't fair well in prison."

And to her surprise, it wasn't fear or concern that she saw in Nathan's expression. He broke into a giant shit-eating grin. "It's because I've got a beautiful face, isn't it. Look at you being all worried about my beautiful face."

Izzy swore inwardly and slammed the heel of her hand into her forehead. Of course that's what the take away message would be for him. Not that it wasn't true or anything—she was fully aware of how attractive he was—but it wasn't exactly the priority here, now was it?

"Yes, Nathan," she said glowering at him, her voice dripping in as much sarcasm as she could muster. "It's because you have a beautiful face."

He strode over to her and draped his arm over her shoulder. "I knew it. You want me."

Izzy squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't care if it's your wanking hand," she threatened, "it's coming off." But the threat didn't work. He just moved his arm so it looped around her waist and pulled her closer to his side.

"Oi!" Curtis hissed, leaning in close. "Can we focus here?"

Just then, the door to the roof opened suddenly, causing the four of them to jump apart in a way that probably looked more than a little bit suspicious. Luckily the person on the other side was Alisha, who had finally finished applying her makeup. She looked at the lot of them like they were complete idiots, raising her eyebrows at them.

"Probation worker's here," she said shortly through smacks of her gum before turning back down the stairs.

Curtis let out a loud, frustrated groan and slammed his fist into the metal of the door, causing a loud clanging noise. "What the _fuck_ are we supposed to do?"

"Well for now we go do the usual community service bullshit," Izzy said in a calm voice. "We don't draw any attention to ourselves. Then we buy a bunch of first-class tickets to Venezuela."

Simon looked at her in confusion. "Why Venezuela?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "There's no extradition treaty with Venezuela—Look I'm not being serious here. I've been told I use sarcasm as a defense mechanism, but this clearly isn't the time. So let's walk downstairs in a calm fashion and sort the crap out of some clothes."

The atmosphere in that main hall shifted radically from what it had been the day before. There were no happy squeals or fashion shows and Izzy most certainly did not reprise her rendition or 'the robot' in any of the truly atrocious clothes. They were just sitting there in silence and sorting through clothes. They were doing exactly what they were told. Except for Kelly, of course, who hadn't even bothered to show up this morning. Great fucking timing on her part.

Now that she thought about it, the lot of them were being so well-behaved, it was probably _raising_ suspicion rather than dispelling it. At least Nathan was wearing a giant bra, so something was vaguely normal. Trying to get back in form, Izzy grabbed the top-hat Curtis was wearing the other day and plopped it on her head. Now all she needed was a monocle, and she would have a right smart ensemble.

"We need to move them," Curtis hissed under his breath, breaking the unofficial code of silence that had seemed to establish itself.

Nathan let out a disbelieving laugh. "How? Where? Are you out of your mind?"

"If we leave them there, they'll find them," Curtis continued, gesticulating wildly.

Nathan stared at Curtis like he was an idiot. "Oh, whereas diggin' 'em up and wandering around with them—that's a real low-risk strategy."

"Well if you got a better idea, let's hear it."

"Yeah, I do actually, Nathan replied, leaning in close. "Why don't you rewind time and stop us killing the probation worker in the first place."

"You show me how I works and I'll do it!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Izzy broke in, throwing clothes in both of their faces. "Let's tone it down before I overdose on testosterone. We need to brainstorm, not rip each other's heads off." Curtis pressed his lips together and nodded in reluctant assent, but Nathan opened his mouth wide. Izzy slapped her hand over the gaping hole in his face and shook her head. "If you don't have anything productive to say, then shut the fuck up. Then maybe you'll live to be a dick tomorrow."

Nathan narrowed his eyes and then Izzy felt something rough and wet pressing against her hand. "Ugh!" she cried, ripping her hand and wiping it on the clothes in front of her. "Did you just lick me?"

Nathan smirked back and nodded. "It's okay to admit that you liked it," he replied, blowing her a kiss.

She wrinkled her nose in response. "You do realize that I've been handling people's used knickers, don't you?" The smirk instantly fell from his face and was replaced by a disgusted expression. He made a strange noise and began frantically wiping at his tongue with his hands. Izzy rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh. "You've been handling them as well."

The ridiculous display was cut short and Simon leaned in to speak. "We need a car."

"Have you got a car?" Nathan suddenly asked, immediately forgetting his unhygienic adventure. Simon gave a small shake of the head indicating no. "Well that's great," Nathan continued, rounding on him. "Maybe we should call a cab. Better make it a seven-seater!"

They all fell into complete silence as the sound of a door closing rang out from somewhere behind them. Izzy wheeled out to see Kelly walking in wearing dark sunglasses and a cap, looking more closed off than usual. And for some reason she kept touching her hair. Izzy looked at her with concern. "Are you alright?" she asked, pulling the hat off her head and throwing it across the room.

"Where have you been?" Alisha demanded loudly.

Kelly reached up and touched her cap again. "I had ta go 'round docta's."

"Yeah," Nathan said loudly, "well while you were getting your smear test—" Izzy smacked him upside the head at that point "—don't hit me! While you were havin' your fanny cleaned out, big shock! We found out the bodies were about to be dug up!"

"They're building an environmental monitoring station under the flyover," Simon clarified.

"Sounds like bullshit, right?"

"Can you steal a car?" Alisha asked suddenly, making Curtis wheel around and ask the same.

Even with the glasses on, Izzy could tell Kelly was glaring at them. "Y'all fuck off!" she spat bitterly, heading over to the table marked 'SHOES' and throwing a pile of them across the room so she could sit down.

"Alright touchy." Nathan stood suddenly and placed his hands on hips, making the whole bra-ensemble thing he had going on look even more ridiculous than usual. "This really is complete shit. We're a bunch of young offenders and not one of us knows how to steal a car? That is pathetic!"

Izzy's mouth immediately snapped shut and she became very interested in the clothes she was sorting through. She knew when it was time to keep her mouth shut.

"Look," Alisha said in exasperation. "We can borrow my dad's car."

Time for a sigh of relief. Izzy figured this probably wasn't the best time to mention that she actually _did_ know how to steal a car. Max—that old foster brother of hers, the one that had taught her to fight—he was a pretty damned good mechanic and had taught her most of what he knew. She wasn't a professional, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew enough to work in his garage for a couple of summers. And she knew enough to be able to hot-wire a car. But there was no way she was going there if there were other options available. With her luck, she'd get caught inside of five minutes.

"Right," Curtis spat venomously, suddenly turning to Alisha, " 'cause you're banned from drivin'—yeah that makes sense, huh, that you bring the car."

"Aw, you're like a whiny little bitch!"

"Guys, guys, guys, come on! We need to work together here!" Nathan said, clapping a bit like he was talking to a couple of kids. Which, essentially, he was. He moved next to the squabbling pair and put an arm around each of their shoulders. "Think of it as a team-building exercise, huh! I'm feelin" this! Are we feelin' this?"

The both of them shoved his arms away and marched off, muttering 'prick' under their breath, leaving Nathan there looking vaguely disappointed. Then his gaze moved down to Izzy who was still sitting there, folding clothes.

"How about you there, Ginger?" he asked, pointing at her enthusiastically. "You ready for some team-buildin'?"

Izzy stared back blankly. "Just don't ask me to any 'trust falls', because I don't trust a single fucking one of you."

He slapped a hand over his heart and gave her a pained expression. "Ouch!"

Izzy tried not to smile, but she couldn't really help it.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Izzy really had no idea how the lot of them were actually going to manage to fit in that tiny car. It was like watching the clown car when she went to the circus with Mrs. Ainsley as a kid. Every time a clown approached, she would think to herself that there was no freaking way it would manage. But they did every single time. Then again, the clowns didn't have any corpses to dispose of.

Everyone met up at the entrance to the community center in the complete darkness. Izzy always wondered why were there weren't more streetlamps in the Estate. It was always so dark at night it had to be conducive to crime, but that night she didn't mind it quite so much, seeing as she herself was in the process of committing a crime. And probably violating multiple health codes.

"So what are we gonna with them do when we dig 'em up?" Alisha asked anxiously as the loaded up the car with all the shovels and blankets Nathan had nicked from the community center storage locker.

"We—we weigh 'em down and toss them in the lake," Curtis answered with a strange sort of enthusiasm in his voice. Izzy nodded in approval. That might work, but it shouldn't be in the lake right outside the community center. There may be something to be said for 'hiding in plain sight', but in her opinion that really didn't apply in the case of murder.

"No, man," Nathan replied, shaking his head vigorously. "We do that and you know what happens next week? The council are all like 'let's drag the lake'! It's so predictable."

"So we bury them somewhere else," Alisha added.

"Aw come on!" Nathan complained, groaning and throwing his head back in frustration. "Enough with the diggin' and the buryin' already! I am not cut out for this sort of physical labor, man. If I wanted to work this hard, I'd get myself a fuckin' job!"

"I wasn't aware that word was in your vocabulary," Izzy said through a smirk, making Nathan shrug his shoulders in response.

"You come up with somethin' then!" Curtis shouted at Nathan. He was clearly beginning to get more than a little bit frustrated.

Nathan paused and pursed his lips, deep in thought. Or at least in thought. And then an expression of dawning realization spread across his face. "We boil them in a bath of sulfuric acid!" he declared, pointing at them all dramatically. "Serial killer-style!"

Izzy rolled her eyes and slammed the trunk shut. "Wouldn't work, sulfuric acid's not strong enough for that. We'd need hydrofluoric acid."

"Okay," Nathan said, nodding quickly while the rest of them . "Why can't we do that then? It'd be like magic. Poof! All evidence gone and we're free and clear."

Leaning on the open door of the car, Izzy stared at him with disbelief, and a little bit of amusement. "Access to hydrofluoric acid is more highly regulated than access to guns. And the fumes would kill you in a minute."

Nathan blinked at her. "So we'll call that Plan B, then."

They finally all made into the car, and Izzy somehow managed to find herself sitting on Nathan's lap. What was stranger, though, was that she didn't seem to mind so much. He hadn't even tried to grope her. Was that an insult?

Simon stuck his head in between the two front seats and looked around at everyone. "We could store them in the community center until we decide what to do with them," Simon said in a quiet voice.

"Oh, great!" Curtis drawled from his position next to Simon. "The community center's a brilliant idea! 'Cause they have a special room for storing rotting corpses!"

"There's a disused storeroom upstairs," Nathan suggested. "I've got a key. We can keep 'em there."

"Why have you got a key?" Kelly asked, speaking for probably the first time that evening.

Nathan paused for a moment. Izzy could feel him looking around at everyone in the car, hopefully looking for some kind of escape from the trap he'd set for himself. Izzy looked around too, and saw nothing but expectant faces. He sighed heavily. "I nicked 'em because I'm livin' in the community center, okay! Happy! Big secret revealed!" He was quiet for a bit, but the vulnerability lasted about half a second. "This is a sweet ride!"

Alisha snorted and started the engine and the six of them rolled off.

Nobody talked much during the whole digging process. At first Izzy figured it was because of the magnitude of what they were doing. Then it was probably because the physical labor was fucking exhausting. And soon enough she was completely certain that it was the foul odor of decay that was filling the air. It was like they had fallen victim to some sort of weaponized gas. But at least the smell meant that they were that much closer to the whole thing being over. One thing was for certain, though. Izzy was definitely going to be burning the clothes she was wearing, both because they were probably evidence now and because the stink would probably never, ever leave them.

All the sudden Nathan started heaving over and over again. Izzy was certain he was going to puke all over the bodies. Fan-fucking-tastic. Because that was what they really needed right now: more bodily fluids. In a sad attempt to be comforting, she patted him on the back a bit. "Just work through it, man," she said awkwardly. "It'll be over soon enough."

He nodded his head and held an arm out. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

And then he stabbed his shovel into the dirt again, but this time it gave rise to a disgusting squelching noise that made Izzy dry heave once herself.

"I've got something," Nathan said weakly, poking at the dirt with his shovel. After a few moments he turned over a severed human hand which had definitely still been attached to a body less than a minute earlier. There was a collective groan that emanated from the group.

"Oops."

Izzy stared down at the hand. It occurred to her that at this point in the decay process, she really couldn't whose hand it was anymore. And then she felt another wave of disgust hit her all over again. Though this time it didn't have anything to do with the smell or anything like that. It was more like self-disgust. Sure she had been thinking about the events of that day all the time, but it was more in the vein of trying to avoid getting caught than it was coming to terms with what she had actually done. Well right now the consequences of her actions were literally waving at her.

Then there was a sort of whistling noise in her ear and another hand—one still attached to a human being—started waving in front of her face. "You all right there, love?" Nathan's voice asked.

She turned around to look at him, and to her surprise there was actual, genuine concern on his face. She gave him a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders. "As good as could be expected I suppose. It's not like I'm in the habit of spending my evenings digging up corpses—usually it's with the telly and a particularly big glass of wine—but I've been meaning to branch out, so…Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said, suddenly getting a bit defensive. "It's just that you haven't said a word since we left the car, you haven't called me an idiot in at least an hour…..I'm starting to worry about ya."

"I'm fine," Izzy said, continuing to dig. She glanced over her shoulder to get a better look at everyone else—to see how they were doing. "If there's anyone you should be worried about it's Kelly. She hasn't threatened anybody with physical violence all day. I think there's something off with her."

Nathan shrugged his shoulders and continued to dig. Izzy rested her chin on the handle of her shovel and watched him for a moment. "Or you should worry about yourself. Staying over night in the community center with the bodies. What if they come to life zombie-style and try to eat you in your sleep. After the storm….anything's possible, isn't it?"

Nathan's spine went rigid and he stood up straight. "Don't even joke about that man!" he exclaimed in a voice that carried more than a little bit of concern. "I used to have bad dreams when I was a kid."

"Did you wet yourself?"

The glare she got in response roughly translated to 'yes'. Izzy smiled a bit and went back to digging, and she could swear that she saw Nathan smile a little bit too.

After what felt like decades, they finally got the bodies loaded into the car. Kelly, Simon, and Alisha were already stationed in the car, while she and Curtis were at the trunk, forcing the second set of legs into place. Nathan was under the flyover, pushing all the excess dirt back into place.

"We're all set," Curtis said, turning to her and taking in deep, exhausted breaths. "Let's go." Izzy nodded in agreement. She was fairly certain some skin had sloughed off onto her clothes. She was going to need at least an hour-long shower.

"Uh, hello," Nathan said, walking up and waving the disembodied hand. "I think we're forgetting something." He pulled his arm back and sent the hand flying through the air making it land with a loud thwack on the windshield. The loud squeak that emanated from the car was almost enough to make Izzy bust out laughing. Nathan grabbed the hand and walked round to the trunk, shrugging his shoulders in such a bemused way that a snort forced its way out of her lungs.

Curtis rolled his eyes heavily and slammed the trunk shut, making a beeline for the front passenger door. Nathan clearly had other plans though. He grabbed hold of Izzy's hand and quickly yanked her forward. "Come on, Ginger!" he said, wrenching the door open and pulling her on his lap. "Let's blow this joint!"

Izzy looked back at Curtis's face. He was absolutely furious, but for the life of her she couldn't understand why. Unless…..Holy fucking shit. He was still hot for Alisha. She had essentially raped him, and he was_ still_ interested. Izzy stared straight in front of her, mouth gaping slightly in disbelief. Maybe some day it would morph itself into some terribly romantic love story, but for right now it was just massively creepy.

It didn't take long to get back to the community center. For a second Izzy thought that everything was going to go fairly smoothly, but then they picked up the bodies. The term 'dead weight' suddenly carried a whole new meaning for her. And it just felt so wrong to her that they were carrying dead bodies down hallways covered in motivational posters.

She and Alisha were in front, carrying the body she thought must belong to Gary seeing as it was the smaller one. Curtis, Simon, and Kelly were behind lugging Tony, and Nathan was walking alongside them whistling and swinging his keys around. Izzy shot him a glare. "How about a little more gravitas while we dispose of the corpses," she bit out between heavy breaths.

"Nah, man," he said smirking at her. "Gravitas isn't really my style. I'm more of a comedic relief man, myself."

Izzy wanted to retort, but the body was just so fucking heavy and the stink of it was filling her nose and mouth, making it difficult enough to breath, let alone contribute some witty banter to the mix. They finally made it to that disused store room and Izzy breathed a sigh of relief, only to be sent into another coughing fit as the smell. Nathan quickly unlocked the door and held it open. She nodded in thanks as she and Alisha hauled their corpse through and dropped it unceremoniously on the ground. Izzy bent over at the waist and took some deep breaths while the second body made its way in. She moved to the side as Curtis entered. Kelly was about to enter when suddenly Nathan said, "I like your cap." He grabbed at it, but the cap wasn't the only thing that came off. Izzy barely heard Kelly's strangled cry, because what she saw caused her mouth to drop open in shock.

Kelly was bald. She was completely an utterly bald. Her head looked like an egg, or a cantaloupe, or something else you could buy at the store. She looked wildly between all of them like all those cornered animals in documentary shows and then ran off trying to cover her head with her hands. Not that it helped all that much.

Izzy looked at Nathan who, like her, was standing there in complete shock. The only difference was that he was still holding the hat and wig in his hands. Curtis, Alisha, and Simon all exited the storeroom, staring off after her as well.

"Did you know she was bald?" Simon asked after a few seconds had passed.

"Course not, twat," Nathan bit back. He actually looked really guilty about the whole thing. "Jesus!"

Alisha wrinkled her nose slightly. "She looked like an alien."

"Aw, don't be mean," Nathan reprimanded in a pleading sort of tone, but the corners of his lips were already pulling up into a smile. After a few seconds he couldn't contain the laughter any more and started snickering. "She did, didn't she? She looked like a bald alien."

"Or Patrick Stewart," Izzy added, breaking down into a fit of giggles herself. "You should probably go find her," she said, punching Nathan in the shoulder. "She'll probably be wanting those back."

"Right," Nathan said, waving the hat and wig around. "You know….." He wandered out the door still looking like he was slightly shell-shocked.

The moment he left, a lot of tension began to fill the room, and from the way Alisha and Curtis were looking at each other, it was at least partly of the sexual variety. They glanced at each other, then at Simon, then at her, then at each other again and the whole process didn't look like it was going to end any time soon, so she was getting the hell out of there.

"Soooooooooo," she said clapping her hands together awkwardly, "I'm going to be going…..anywhere else so I'll see you guys tomorrow." She began to head out the door, but saw that Simon was still rooted in place. She reached out and grabbed hold of his sleeve, pulling him after her. "And you're going home. Let's let these two…..birds of some variety, be it love or lust or long, soulful glances work out their own problems."

"What was that about?" Simon asked as she dragged him behind her.

Izzy stopped and gave him a knowing look. "Don't play coy Simon. You might be a quiet one, but you don't miss much. Other than social cues apparently."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "What do you mean?"

"You know about what happened with Curtis and Alisha."

He shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to. I was waiting in the locker room and they burst in all the sudden. I was invisible so they didn't see me and they just….well….." He widened his eyes and shook his head a bit to indicate what they both knew they were talking about.

Izzy pressed her lips together and nodded slightly, trying to think of something to say, but it was difficult to come up with conversation topics when the other person barely says a word. She rocked back on her heels and sighed. "So I think we got away with it. For now at least."

All the sudden his eyes widened and a strange smile spread over his face. All the sudden he started frankly searching his pockets. Izzy furrowed her eyebrows. "What are you—"

Simon pulled a credit card and his smile grew even further. "I got this off the probation worker," he said eagerly showing it to her. "I'm going to go buy an airplane ticket with it and then they'll think he's still alive."

Izzy blinked at him, taken aback slightly. She was genuinely impressed. Maybe she should listen to what he had to say more often. "Simon, that's brilliant," she said sincerely. "Seriously, if we do that soon enough they might even stop looking for him."

Simon started glowing under her praise. "Right. Right, I'm going to do that right now!" And then he took off running down the hallway. Izzy laughed a little bit. It was actually kind of adorable. Like a watching a puppy run while its feet were still too big for its body. Not that she was trying to be patronizing or anything.

After Simon disappeared around the corner, Izzy decided to find Nathan and Kelly to see how she was doing. And of course to figure out what the hell had happened. A bald head could mean a ton of things. On one hand there it could be cancer, and then on the other hand the story could involve a rogue paper shredder. There really was no way of knowing. She searched around the community center for about twenty minutes, but couldn't find them. They really should have each other's phone number, at the very least so that they could make sure to keep their stories straight if the cops showed up.

Eventually Izzy decided to give up the search and wait for Nathan to get back, so she plopped down at the edge of the balcony and let her legs dangle over the edge, kicking back and forth like she was a little kid. When Nathan finally did arrive back, she called over to him from her spot, and he responded to her greeting with a look of extreme confusion. "What the hell are you still doing here?" he asked, climbing up the stairs and sitting next to her.

"I was wondering about Kelly and the whole bald thing," she said, poking him hard in the shoulder. "I looked for the two of you, but you had already gone or something."

"I walked her home." Izzy balked at the idea, which seemed to make him a bit upset. "What?" he demanded, elbowing her in the ribs. "I was tryin' to be nice. Believe it or not I can be nice."

"No I believe you," Izzy said, holding up her hands in submission. "I just wish Simon was there to get the whole thing on tape." Izzy rested her head on the railing and turned to look at him. "So what is it with Kelly, then? Is she sick? Did she get really drunk and shave her own head? Did she fall head first into a giant vat of pre-chewed gum?"

"Apparently it just started fallin' out," he said with a shrug. "She's goin' to the doctors and their going to do some tests."

Izzy let out a low whistle. "That's got to be terrifying."

"Yeah," he said nodding his head. "Especially the bit with the bald fanny."

"Shut up, you prick," Izzy said slapping him on the back of the head and barely concealing her laughter.

"Ow! Stop it!" he shouted, grabbing her wrist and pushing it away from him. "I really don't need two PMSing girls hanging around and slapping me all the time."

"Yeah, well, you're stuck with us for at least another 150 hours." Looked at her and pursed his lips—what she had now identified as his 'thinking face'. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "What?"

"Nothing'," he mumbled. "It's just that…150 hours. That's not too bad. You'll be out of my hair soon enough."

"Big relief, I know," she said standing up. "Now I seem to recall being promised beer."

**So there's chapter 10. I really hope you like it. Oh, and I hope you like how Simon is starting to grow on Izzy. She still thinks he's pretty creepy, but she doesn't have that immediate negative reaction anymore. I intend to have them gradually grow into being friends.**

**Sorry it took me so long to write this. I'm currently working on two very different stories, and it can sometimes be difficult to switch mindsets. That and I got a video editing software and have been going a bit crazy with it.**

**Please review. I will always post a chapter as soon as I have finished it and will never ever hold you hostage to reviews, but they do kind of inspire me to write and give me motivation.**

**It Belongs In A Museum**


	11. Panic Attack

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to O. G. Loko, Sunflowers in Moscow, Persephone Price, Lady Shagging Godiva, incitanemxx, shinelikegold, TwelveOhSeven, Crazy Adolescence, and Guest for reviewing. I really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

**Sorry it took me so long to get this to you, but between my job hunt and a few family crises, I've been really busy.**

Chapter 11 – Panic Attack

There were little pieces of something hitting her in the face. That was the first thing that occurred to Izzy while she was lying there in her semi-conscious state somewhere between sleeping and waking. The second thing was that she was suffering from the headache and hazy memories indicative of a not insignificant hangover. The third was that the crappy plaster spackled over the ceiling of her flat must be flaking off again. And then the last one was that she hadn't actually gone home last night. That realization was enough to make her wake up.

Izzy sat bolt upright, wheeling about to take in her surroundings. Tarmac. Couch. Open sky. The distinct odor of errant youths, otherwise known as weed. She was on the roof of the community center, lying on the couch, covered with a blanket she didn't remember getting and wearing the running clothes she kept in the bottom of her locker. She didn't remember changing into those. Then again she couldn't remember falling asleep up there either. Why had she been stupid enough to do something like that? She should be home before curfew—she was always home before curfew. If she wasn't doing her community service or working in the garage with Max, she was always at home. It wasn't like she really had any friends, and other than that thing with Ian all those years ago she had never been in a relationship that lasted over a month. And even when she was in a relationship, she always made sure to wake up in her own bed. It set the boundaries for her, and she had never gotten to a point where she wanted to cross it. Which was why it made absolutely no sense that she was there on that roof. And what was even stranger was that she wasn't the only one there.

"Morning."

The sound of that lilting Irish accent made her eyes snap shut. She slowly turned her head until she saw Nathan sitting there with an unbearable smirk on his face and a box full of paper clips on his lap which he seemed to have been throwing at her for at least five minutes. Normally Izzy would have some clever quip or witty barb to wipe the smirk off his face, but right now the questionable circumstances and fuzzy memories were making her uncomfortable with the scene unfolding before her and the pounding of her head was making it difficult for her to think. She quickly pulled back the blanket, sending a cloud of paper clips hailing to the ground. "What happened last night?"

Nathan, clearly oblivious to the small hint of anxiety in her voice, just propped his feet up on the table. "You got good and drunk," he said with a little bit of a smile on his face. "Well, we both did. But I've got to say I'm impressed. For such a small girl you can really pack it in. You passed out in the middle of quoting the entire 'Dennis scene' from Monty Python. Couldn't understand some of it though, with all the slurring and everything."

Groaning, Izzy swung her feet off the couch and kneaded her forehead with the heels of her hand. She could feel the remains of yesterday's makeup built up around her eyes and her hair was sticking out every which way. She must look an absolute mess. When she finally made eye contact with him, her hesitant expression made his smirk falter a bit. "You and me," she said gesturing between the two of them, "we didn't…" She let the statement taper off and left the question unsaid.

"Did we shag?" Nathan asked in an almost amused tone. "Trust me love, if we did, you'd remember it."

"Or maybe I would repress the psychological trauma," she shot back.

Izzy nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't know why she would shag Nathan—he was attractive, but he was a twat—and she had a tendency to do stupid shit when she was drunk. She had a way of ruining things and pushing people away even when she was sober, and when she was drunk it was like her subconscious was figuring out ways to fuck things up before her brain was functioning well enough for her to think better of it. And shagging Nathan would definitely fuck things up. She already had enough on her plate what with the murdering and the disposing of bodies, another helping of dysfunction was not what she needed right now. Her life was enough of a mess already, and relationship drama was the absolute worst. Anyway, that category was already more than filled by Curtis and Alisha's little soap opera.

"Well that's a relief," she said, propping her feet up on the table as well, "herpes being forever and all that."

Nathan rolled his eyes and threw another paper clip at her. I wouldn't do something like that. It would be takin' advantage."

Izzy stared back suspiciously. "That must be a new set of scruples that you've dug up for yourself. I seem to remember you telling me that was your modus operandi. Something about shagging drunk, impressionable girls. You seem like someone who would enjoy being the mistake they wake up to in the morning"

"Best mistake they ever made," he responded with a wink. "And yes it has been known to happen on occasion, but not to you."

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Nathan froze and a sheepish look crossed his face, like he was a small kid who had accidentally told a secret. "Nothin'," he said quickly, shrugging his shoulders. Izzy leveled him with what Alan used to call her 'mom look'—the one that contained a complete and unassailable authority. She could see Nathan start to squirm. "Fine!" he suddenly shouted. "It's because we're mates, okay? Are you satisfied now? Jesus fucking Christ. Now enough with the 'sharing feelings' bullshit. We don't really need to be that intimate with each other's lives do we? Now stop looking all disapproving and shit, it's like I'm talking to my mum."

"You're the one who's shouting about feelings," she said through a growing smile. Nathan glowered back, looking none too pleased with the situation. She sat back in her chair and stared at him for a moment, watching him become more and more uncomfortable. "So I'm your friend, hm?"

"Yeah, don't go making a big deal of it or anything," he said waving his hand at her. "You're the one who said it first, and I don't really do the sappy girl-feelings thing."

Izzy pursed her lips and nodded. "That's fine. I see what's going on here. You love me."

Nathan's eyes widened in fear. Izzy tried hard not to laugh at the expression—he looked like a scared baby. 'No."

"You're in love with me."

"You have got to still be drunk or somethin', love, 'cause—"

"You want to bear my children."

At that point he looked at her like she was absolutely insane. "I'm not a fucking sea horse, Ginger. I am a man. A big, strong, ass-kicking, manly man."

"Nope," she said popping the 'p'. "You're overcompensating. Now you've been neutered. You're my bitch. My sappy, overly emotional bitch who is completely overflowing with girly feelings."

"Alright," he said pushing himself to his feet and walking to the door to the roof. "I'm leaving this conversation now. I can feel the testosterone being sapped away from me."

"Does this mean you're going to use my actual name now?"

The only response she got was the heavy slamming of a door and then she was left on the roof alone. The small smile that was on her face to begin with widened until it reached Cheshire cat-status. So they were friends now. Real, proper friends. How the hell had that happened? Of all the people she knew, Nathan was the second most emotionally stunted. With herself as the first of course. And maybe that was why. As strange as it might sound, the two of them had a lot in common. They understood each other on a certain level, broken homes, abandonment issues, and all that. All the sarcasm and obnoxious comments—he made them for the same reason she did: to shut people out. Because once you let them in, they could leave you as well.

Izzy had never bothered asking Nathan about his dad, even after she had gone to help him out with his mum. She knew what his response would be, and the story was clear enough for her. She might have even gotten a look at the twat that night at the bowling alley. Nathan had been frog-marched out of the place by a couple of cops and a short man who vaguely resembling a hobbit trailing behind. She hadn't really been paying all that much attention—why should she—but in retrospect there seemed to be no love lost between the two. In some ways it was worse for him than it was for her. His father had chosen to leave him, and she knew that her mother would never have abandoned her given the choice. And her father? Well fuck him. All she had was a name and beaten up photograph, and she needed less than that.

It was strange though, sitting on that roof wrapped in a blanket that Nathan had apparently brought her in the middle of the night. It all felt so…clichéd? But then again nothing is really clichéd when you've got a couple of dead bodies stuffed in a locker. Eventually Izzy managed to pull herself to her feet and throw the blanket aside. Water. She needed water. And a shower. And a six-foot deep ditch to bury her problems in. Literally. Dragging her feet she made it down the stairs and into the locker room, stopping by the closet to grab a towel on the way.

Izzy made sure that she had already changed into her jumpsuit before the others got there. She would shoot off one of her own toes before letting Alisha have the satisfaction of catching her on an apparent walk of shame. It was only about ten minutes before the other ASBO shitheads started to show. It was a fairly quiet morning. That is until Kelly showed up, Nathan trailing behind her, and then there was an explosion of noise that made Izzy's already aching head feel like it was going to split open.

"I saw 'er ex-boyfriend and 'e's bald! It's Jodi! She's got dis powa or somefin', that bitch did dis to me!"

"She can turn people bald?" Izzy asked, rubbing her head trying to fight off the headache. "That's, that's—"

"That is rubbish," Nathan interjected, cutting her off. He started pointing at them all. "Bald, bald, bald. Though it may be an improvement for you, Ginger."

"Fuck off, Nathan."

"When I catch 'er, I'm gonna batta 'er—I'm gonna rip 'er tits off!"

"Well that's…innovative," Izzy said, snorting at the threat. "But I'll tell you what you should do. Rip off one of her tits, and then she'll be all asymmetrical and weird-looking."

Nathan chuckled a bit. "Nice."

"I'm focking serious!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. No more jokes," Izzy said, wincing at the volume of the exclamation and moved to her locker. She was being a bit of a bitch making fun of Kelly like that. It was something she had to work on. Opening up the door, she rooted around in the bag at the bottom until her hand circled around that tiny little bottle that hopefully held her salvation. She would definitely need them if Kelly was going to be on one of her loud, verbal rampages. Kelly was good people, she really was, but she was also very loud. Izzy popped a few of the Advil into her mouth and threw her head back, swallowing them down without water. She went to close the door to her locker and jumped suddenly and someone's face appeared just behind it.

"Jesus Christ, Simon!" she said taking a deep breath. "You can't be sneaking up on people like that. One of these days you're going to get punched in the face, and it might just be by me."

"I did it!" he said eagerly, that same silly bordering on creepy smile covering his face.

"Did what?" Nathan's voice called out from across the locker room. "Did you finally pop your cherry? We were all rooting for you, man. Congratulations."

Izzy rolled her eyes and flicked him off before turning back to Simon. "Are you talking about the plane flight?"

The smile on his face grew and he nodded enthusiastically. "I bought him a one-way ticket to Venezuela. No extradition."

Izzy smiled at him and punched him lightly in the shoulder. He was so obviously desperate for approval, and nobody else was giving it to him, so….. "Good show, man. Hopefully that'll have the cops running in circles for a while."

And then without another word Simon and his creepy smile turned around and walked away. He definitely was an odd one, but he was beginning to grow on her. She turned to leave the room and saw Nathan looking at her with a curious expression. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared back. "What?" He just shrugged his shoulders and ducked out after Kelly and the others. If he kept giving her weird, serious looks like that, she would have to talk to him about it. Or avoid the topic entirely. In her experience it was often best to ignore a problem until it just went away. It wasn't healthy, but it was effective. And at this point she wasn't even sure if there was a problem in the first place. Izzy shook her head, trying to collect her still hazy thoughts before following them herself.

"We should bury the bodies underneath the foundations of the environmental monitoring station before they pour in the concrete," Simon interjected while they were busy sorting clothes.

Izzy exhaled sharply in surprise. Why the hell hadn't she thought of that. It was fucking brilliant. Simple and brilliant. They would disappear entirely never to be found again, and that ulcer forming in the lining of her stomach might jut be able to go away. The guilt wouldn't, but she could live with the guilt. The constant undercurrent of crippling fear was less tolerable. Admitting that might make a bad person, but at this point her only aspiration was for survival. Maybe after the spectres of Tony and Gary were encased in concrete, she would be able to look to the future again and salvage everything she had thrown away over the past few weeks. She looked around at the faces of the others, all of whom looked deep in thought, considering the plan. Except, of course, for Nathan, who had apparently already written it off. The boy had a brain, that much was clear, but what was also clear was that he didn't care to use it all that much.

He pointed at Simon, derision written all over his face. "So your plan is we dig up the bodies, and then we bury them in the exact same place? You're a genius!"

Izzy shot him a withering look. "Yeah, actually, he kind of is. Unless you've got a plan that will make the bodies disappear for all eternity."

"Yeah," Curtis said with a smile. "Yeah, that works!"

"That's smart," Kelly added, piling on some ore praise and making Simon look positively gleeful.

Nathan looked around at the lot of them with a disbelieving expression and scoffed loudly. Izzy could swear that he almost seemed threatened, and for some reason he was looking at her again. It was weird.

Izzy was hoping to discuss logistics a bit more—planning was probably an important step when disposing of bodies—but before anyone else could get out another word the pretty-boy do-gooder popped by, bringing with him an attitude that was far too cheery for Izzy's tastes. She was suspicious of people that were always cheerful. It seemed like they were planning something.

"Okay, everyone you want to grab a box and follow me," he said in that usual chipper voice. What was so entertaining about physical labor? Suspicious. But what was even more suspicious was Alisha's reaction to his arrival. Unlike the other days when she had been all over the guy, she was pointedly ignoring his presence. And to make matters more confusing there was Curtis's reaction to her reaction—the whole situation was entirely out of control. Love triangle plus superpowers equals bad, bad news. Suspicions that were reinforced at the end of the day when Alisha wandered off with do-gooder, leaving the lot of them to deal with the bodies.

"Where's she goin'?" Nathan demanded as he Izzy, Kelly and Simon walked out onto the terrace to find Alisha strutting off with the guy.

Kelly wrinkled her nose. "Is she hookin' op wiv 'im?"

"Ah, yeah, that is definitely on," Nathan definitely on.

Izzy groaned and rubbed at her forehead. Any help the Advil could have given her was being quickly reversed by the inanity of the petty relationship drama. They were disposing of bodies—of people they had killed—and this was their priority? "If I go to jail because she can't rein in her libido, I will fucking kill her," she muttered under her breath.

"Aw, don't do that man," Nathan said, nudging her in the shoulder. "Or do. Seeing as Weird Kid has apparently dreamed up the perfect crime."

"How do we move the bodies without her dad's car?" Simon asked, snapping the rest of them back to reality.

Nathan rounded on Curtis. "You need to get that tart on the phone and tell her we need her dad's car to shift the stiffs!"

But Curtis just wandered off after the two retreating figures. Un-fucking-believable.

"Uh, where ya goin'?" Kelly hissed after him. "We need ta move da bodies!"

"You deal with it!" Curtis shouted, turning back to face them a moment before storming off into the distance.

Izzy was seething. What the hell was wrong with these people? It was like they were hormone-fueled monsters more preoccupied with a casual fuck than going to jail. This was a level of stupidity that she just could not deal with. "That's it," she said, shaking her head angrily. "I'll kill them both. I'm going to murder them in their sleep. Painfully."

"Alright, alright," Nathan cut in, waving his hands around. "Everybody needs to calm the fuck down. Now think." He stroked his chin a bit before pointing at Simon. "You there, Weird Kid. You're the one with all the ideas. What the fuck are we supposed to do?"

Simon shrank a bit under the sudden attention. He looked at Izzy and she gave him a small nod of encouragement. "We could take Sally's car," he suggested hesitantly.

Nathan blinked, completely oblivious. "Who's Sally."

Izzy sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have got to be kidding me with this."

Nathan just shrugged and looked at them all dumbly. It was times like this when Izzy wondered why she actually liked the twat. But they had a plan. It was a half-assed plan with more than a few flaws, but it was a plan. Simon turned invisible and snuck into her office to lift her keys while the rest of them snuck back into the disused storeroom to fetch the bodies. Izzy spent most of the trip silently cursing Curtis and Alisha. The trip was a lot more difficult with four than it had been with six, and in the end it was more like three seeing as Nathan seemed more interested in picking his teeth and other various forms of self-grooming than maneuvering a couple of corpses 'Weekend At Bernie's'-style.

Izzy finally managed to shove the second set of feet into the boot and leaned against the car, panting heavily. She glared at Nathan's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Do you mind?" she asked hostilely.

He just smirked back. "Not at all, love. I'm quite well suited here."

"Just help us, you prick!" Kelly shouted from the back of the car.

Nathan rolled his eyes and went round the other side of the car, helping Kelly and Simon shove the body of the probation worker in the trunk. Just as slammed the lid of the boot shut, Izzy heard a second door slam.

"Hold it," she hissed, lifting a hand. She squinted at the community center and saw a figure walking towards them. A stream of ice coursed through her veins. "Oh, shit."

Sally was walking out of the community center and towards her car, and Izzy was standing there frozen like a deer in headlights. If it hadn't been for Nathan looping a hand around her waist and pulling her with him, she would probably still be standing there next to that car. The four of them watched in terror, crouching behind the bins, as Sally climbed in, turned on the ignition, and drove off. Nathan ran out of there hiding place, stretching his hands out after the car like he was somehow going to be able to catch it. All he could say was 'fuck!', and Izzy for once whole-heartedly agreed with him.

Izzy was walking around in a haze. It occurred to her that she must be in shock, otherwise she would be freaking out a bit more. That would come later—but for right now she was just numb. Somehow the lot of them made it to the roof, looking out over the water. Maybe they should have just dropped the bodies there. If they did that they certainly wouldn't be in this predicament.

Izzy was sitting on that bench next to Kelly and for some reason the only thing she could focus on was the way the other girl was scratching her head. It was making the wig move back and forth a bit and it looked seriously weird. Somewhere in that semi-comatose state of hers, Nathan's voice broke through as he summarized the entire catastrophic event over the phone.

"…..someone left the keys in the ignition," Nathan rambled into his mobile as he left Curtis a fourth message. "There's no point naming names at this stage—it's done now—so the probation worker is drivin' around with the stiffs in the boot of her car. Just thought you'd want to know. Anyway….call me." He turned around to face the rest of them and threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "Well that's it, I guess," he said, moving to sit next to her. "We're going to prison."

"Yeah, that's where mah career teacha said I'd end op," Kelly muttered from her other side. Usually that would have made Izzy laugh or prompt some sort of snarky quip, but for once her wit was failing her.

"Yeah well you'd do alright in prison," Nathan quipped, resting his elbows on his knees and staring out dejectedly. "You've got the whole bald thing, you're well butch." Kelly, in true form, leaned back around Izzy and started punching Nathan repeatedly. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop it! You know you hit me a lot!"

"Yeah, coz you're a dick!"

"I'm just tryin' to say you're well set up and all!" Nathan exclaimed. "Nobody's gonna mess with you or Weird Kid since he looks like the kind of bloke who lights people on fire as a hobby. Me and Ginger, what with our pretty faces and all are prime pickings for all the perverts. Her and me best not drop the soap is all I'm saying."

Izzy let out a derisive snort. "Speak for yourself," she muttered. "I can take care of myself."

Nathan started clapping facetiously. "Oh, well good for you, then. That warms my heart."

"Maybe Sally won't look in the boot," Simon suggested quietly.

Izzy let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, because it's likely that now's the time we're going to start getting lucky? I don't know if you've noticed, but things haven't exactly been working out in our favor so far."

And as a sign of resignation, Simon sat down as well. The four of them must look like they were waiting in line for the gallows. Izzy ran her hands down her face and groaned loudly. "I need to get drunk again."

Nathan laughed and draped an arm around her shoulder.

"Agreed."

**So there it is! More hinting at Nathan/Izzy. There's going to be a lot of push and pull with those two and I tried to explain it a bit with Izzy's monologue about being emotionally unequipped and stuff. And some more Izzy/Simon friendship here. **

**I know this chapter wasn't quite as funny, but it was kind of a drama-filled portion of the story.**

**Anyway, please review!**


	12. Do-Over

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, incitanemxx, Persephone Price, Lady Shagging Godiva, sinead, and Crazy Adolescence for reviewing! You guys are the absolute best.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 12 – Do-Over

"I'm going to jail. I'm going to jail. I'm going to jail."

Izzy kept repeating the sentence over and over again as she paced back and forth, gnawing on her fingernails. She wouldn't be surprised if she was wearing a hole in the crappy, laminated tile in the lobby of the community center. She wasn't alone. Nathan was sitting in one of those plastic kiddy chairs tapping his foot almost pathologically and Simon was groping at the window like some kind of deranged hamster trying to fight its way out of a cage. What a group they must have made. Any outside viewer must have thought they were in the throes of an intense, paranoia-inducing drug trip with the way they were behaving. In Izzy's opinion that was a good thing. Better than them suspecting the truth at least.

"I'm going to jail. I'm going to jail. I'm going to jail."

She kept pacing and Simon kept pawing at the glass, but eventually she realized that the tapping of Nathan's foot. Without stopping her constant movement she glanced over to find him staring at her. "Would you please shut the fuck up?" he suddenly shouted at her. She stopped pacing and stared at him, mouth slightly open in shock at the sudden outburst. Not that she could blame him really—she was being fucking annoying—but apparently his nerves were more than a little bit frayed as well, because he wasn't even close to finishing his rant.

"It's bad enough that you show up at 6:30 in the fucking morning without so much as a 'good morning' or a Danish," he said, throwing himself out of the chair, "but can you at least wait for me to leave the room before you have a mental breakdown? I don't do breakdowns, love. All the cryin' and wailin' and then the snot gets everywhere. No thank you."

Izzy dropped her hand from her mouth and glared at him. He was right, but he didn't need to be such a dick about it. "Thanks for the sympathy," she shot back. "I really can't handle how emotionally mature you're being right now."

"Hey, I'm not the one reenacting 'Girl, Interrupted' here," he growled. "Angelina Jolie might be able to get away with that kind of shit, but she's got tits out to here." He held his hands out to demonstrate. "You on the other hand…"

Izzy crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows at Nathan, causing him to falter. Then from the far corner there was a light cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. The two of them turned to see Simon eyeing them with a slightly amused expression on his face, but looked away suddenly as he saw them staring at him.

"You think something's funny, weird kid?" Nathan shouted at him.

Simon winced and tried to retreat into the corner of the room. "No." Izzy tried hard not to roll her eyes in response. He really wasn't trying that hard to lose the moniker of 'weird kid'.

Nathan took a few steps towards him, opening his mouth to say something that would probably end up being hurtful and more than a little bit rude when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. All three of them turned to see Kelly, Curtis, and Alisha pressed against the glass. Nathan quickly ran over to unlock the door and the three of them spilled into the room in an uncoordinated way that was almost worthy of Benny Hill. The lot of them looked an absolute mess. Except for Alisha of course who seemed to have the presence of mind to style her hair and perfect her makeup. She had to look good for her mug shot after all.

"Did any of you get any sleep last night?" Nathan asked in a rushed, almost desperate voice as the six of them formed a circle at the center of the room.

Curtis scoffed. "No. Of course not."

"We would have been arrested by now if she found the bodies," Alisha observed.

"Maybe they're waiting till we're all together," Simon muttered in a dejected voice.

Izzy slapped a hand against her forehead and groaned heavily. "Great positive outlook, Simon. I feel so reassured."

"Yeah, seriously man," Nathan said pointing at him angrily. "Now why would you say something like that!"

It was obvious that Nathan was looking to lay into Simon again, so Izzy through her hands up to divert attention. "Look, look, look," she said in a low voice, leaning in so they all could hear her, "the fact of the matter is that they wouldn't have let us meet up again if they knew. The cops wouldn't give us a chance to get out stories straight, so they must not have found them. Right?"

The tense expressions on everyone's faces relaxed a bit as they nodded in agreement. They weren't entirely without hope—there was still that tiny little bit they could hang on to. But her stomach was nowhere near done twisting itself into knots.

"Wot time does she usually get 'ere?" Kelly hissed anxiously.

"About eight o'clock," Nathan responded.

Izzy swore under her breath and checked the Avengers swatch watch Allan had gotten her last Christmas. "It's 7:48," she said, looking up at the others. "We better get out there and watch out for her—make sure that she doesn't see us. A couple of delinquent fuck-ups? It would probably be more suspicious if we showed up on time."

There was a murmur of agreement and the lot of them piled out of the community center and into the car park at an alarming rate.

"You know," she heard Nathan say from somewhere behind her, "we should probably synchronize our watches or some shit like that. That's what they do in all the films." There was a short pause. "One of you needs to remind me to get a watch."

Izzy let out a frustrated sigh as she pushed the doors open. All the sudden she was bombarded with harsh rays of sunlight strained her eyes. It had still been dark when she got there, and now the sun was shining brightly. She usually hated the dark—was even a little afraid of it. Bad things happened in the dark. People get hurt in the dark. But right now it was the sunlight that she found absolutely terrifying. She felt open, exposed. And if there was one thing that Isabelle McCallum hated more than anything else in the shithole that was this planet, it was being exposed.

"What are we supposed to do now?" a voice whispered in her ear.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" she hissed, jumping in surprise. "Nathan you seriously need to be taught some lessons in personal space!"

It wasn't a bad question though. Tactically speaking, the car park wasn't the best of locations to run a stakeout. Eventually they had to settle on the most practical, but least pleasant of the options. The six of them lined up behind the bins outside on the edge of the cars, crouching down to the ground so as not to be seen. The smell was rank and it filled Izzy's nose and mouth in the most foul way possible.

"I'm going to smell like the floor of a cab," she muttered under her breath.

"So that'll be an improvement, then," Alisha replied acidly, shooting her a withering glance. Izzy gritted her teeth and kept her mouth shut. There certainly wasn't any love lost between the two of them, but this wasn't the time to engage in catty witticisms. There were more pressing matters at hand. She just bit her lip and stared forward waiting for the car to arrive, for some reason trying hard to ignore the fact that Nathan was standing very close to her. She didn't know why, but she was finding it very distracting.

After a few minutes, an exceptionally bland-looking beige sedan pulled up driven by a similarly bland female probation worker. A probation worker who looked far to at ease in that car to be aware of the fact that she was driving around with a couple of stiff. Izzy shook her head at her own train of thought. Stiffs? Since when did she call dead bodies stiffs? She had been hanging out with Nathan too much.

"She didn't look in da boot!" Kelly hissed, her voice hovering somewhere between relief and excitement.

"We're gonna be okay!" Nathan said giddily. "We're not goin' to prison! No gang rapes for you and me Ginger! We're gettin' a pass!"

Somehow in the chaos of it all, Nathan's arms pulled her into the most awkward hug she had ever experienced from a grown human being. His arms were around her hips and his face was pressed into her stomach not so far from the breasts he had been disparaging not fifteen minutes ago. But in that moment, Izzy didn't care. She was so giddy with relief that her arms wrapped themselves around Nathan's neck and shoulders, returning the hug.

Izzy kept murmuring under her breath like a complete loon. "Park the car. Park it. Now go inside. Just shut the fucking door in go inside."

Her running soliloquy was interrupted when Curtis rounded on them with a severely distressed look on his face. Uh-oh. This was very much not good. In a big, big way. Izzy felt her grip on Nathan tighten as she prepared for what was undoubtedly going to be some terribly fucked-up news.

"She's gonna get out of the car," he whispered anxiously. "She's gonna walk to the boot and try and open it. Then she exploded backwards like someone pushed her, but it was too late. She's gonna find the bodies!"

"How do you know?" Alisha demanded.

"It's already happened once!"

"So now you rewind time!" Nathan said, his eyes wide with fear. "Well that's fucking brilliant!" He looked back up at Izzy with an expression that clearly read 'do you fucking believe this?'. It was really only at that point that either of them fully realized that they were hugging in the first place. They quickly released each other like each was afraid the other was carrying the plague. Izzy took several awkward steps away and scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. This event was definitely going to be filed in the 'things that most certainly never happened' portion of the filing cabinet that was her brain. That particular drawer was getting quite full, and she was going to end up shoving this little event between the murder and the pineapple incident of 2007.

"So what do we do?" she asked anxiously, looking at all of them. She was met be blank looks everywhere—looks that probably matched the one on her face. Except for one, that is. Nathan's bore a look of determination.

"Get the bodies," he said in a low, raspy tone.

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Nathan, what the f—"

But before she could get the words out he seemingly conjured a brick out of thin air and started sprinting towards the recently parked car. Sally had barely made it out of the driver's seat when he sent it flying into the windshield, making the glass crack into the pattern of a spider web.

Izzy squeezed her eyes shut and winced at the noise. "Yep. That'll do it."

Sally looked between him and the windshield about six times, mouth gaping open. "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded in disbelief.

"It's—it's just pure, mindless vandalism!" he managed to stutter out. "I blame the video games. What's it called? Desensitization?"

Sally stared back at her car again, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. "What is the matter with you?" she screeched angrily. "Are you mentally deficient?"

Nathan scoffed and regained some of his trademark swagger. "If I was mentally deficient, I would have missed. Check that out. Bull's-eye."

Izzy had to shove her fist in her mouth to force back the laughter, earning anxious hisses from the rest of the group. It would be really fucking stupid for her to give them away now. But she didn't. Within about three seconds Nathan was being dragged into Sally's office, probably looking a little too pleased with himself for someone who was entering a crap-factory of trouble.

As soon as the door to the community center closed, the rest of them sprinted out from behind the bins and towards the car.

"Wha do we do now?" Kelly asked anxiously, readjusting her cap self consciously. "Da probation worka's got da fockin's keys an' it's not like we can carry 'em ourselves."

"She's right," Alisha said plaintively. "What are we gonna do?"

Again with the blank faces. Izzy shut her eyes and groaned. She was really going to do this. She swore she was never going to do this again, not after that time Max almost got caught, but there was no choice, was there?

"Alisha, do you have a pair of nail scissors on you by any chance?" She figured it was a safe bet the answer was yes.

Alisha turned and looked at her like she was absolutely stark raving mad. "What the fuck are you on about?"

"You think this is time for a manicure?" Curtis piled on. "What was it you said earlier about sortin' out priorities?"

Izzy's jaw clenched. "Look," she said shortly, "do you want me to fix this fucking disaster or not? Just give me the goddamn scissors."

Alisha's mouth opened slightly in shock, but she shoved her hand in her purse and rooted around until she fished out the small scissors. Izzy wordlessly grabbed them and moved to the car, saying a silent thank you when she realized that in the chaos probation worker Sally had forgotten to lock the doors. She quickly pushed the seat back and laid down so that her head was below the steering wheel and her legs were resting against the seat back. She popped out that panel and the wires fell out. She quickly pried out the right ones, cut them and stripped them with Alisha's nail scissors, and tapped them together until the engine roared to life. Sighing heavily, she sat up and placed her hands on the steering wheel.

The others were staring at her, their faces colored in shock. She lifted her eyebrows and looked at them expectantly. "Well?"

Without saying a word the four of them piled into the car—Kelly in the front seat and the other three in the back—and Izzy slammed her foot on the accelerator, making the car lurch forward violently. The silence didn't last long though. It was a matter of seconds until they exploded into a cacophony. It sounded like a dying parrot.

"Is this a fuckin' joke?" Curtis demanded from his position in the back seat. "You know how to steal cars?"

"Curtis, your powers of perception are breathtaking," she said, turning the wheel with more vigor than she probably would under normal circumstances. "Why you ever decided to pick athletics over academia is beyond me."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Alisha asked angrily.

"Look," Izzy replied in as calm a voice as she could muster, "we just committed a crime. The last thing we want to do is draw attention to ourselves and stealing a car draws attention. In case you lot haven't noticed, we're in community service. That means they have our prints on file. That means that if a car goes missing, and they find it two days later, they will know we were the ones that stole it."

Alisha sat back in her seat and rolled her eyes heavily. "You can't be fuckin' serious. We could have avoided this whole mess if you—"

At that point Izzy had reached the end of the little tact she had to begin with. She slammed on the brakes hard so that everybody lunged forward in their seats and turned around to face them "We wouldn't be in this mess if you two—" she pointed between Alisha and Curtis "—hadn't bailed on moving the bodies in the first place for the sake of your fucked up game of sexual 'chicken'."

Apparently she had scared them into submission because they just stared back at her with shocked expressions on their faces. She nodded determinedly and turned to face the road in front of her. "Okay, then. Let's go commit a felony."

It wasn't that much longer before they managed to bury the bodies. All that overturned dirt—nobody would notice a little lumpy pile. No need to bother with six feet under this time around. One and a half feet under would suit just fine. Afterwards the five of them stood in a line—as they seemed to be doing so often lately—and stared at the construction workers poured in the concrete. For a bunch of grey gloop, Izzy found it to be astonishingly beautiful. It looked like freedom.

That thought made her roll her eyes at herself. It was so incredibly clichéd.

Izzy leaned forward and looked at the line of her compatriots. She exhaled loudly and clicked her tongue against her teeth. "So I think that's pretty good work for before nine o'clock." She was met with more disbelieving faces. That was happening a lot lately. "Well I think it is at least."

As days go, the rest of it was pretty normal. It was a strange way to see it being that they had just spent their morning digging graves, but that was the gist of it. More hauling boxes, more ski clothes for the Sahara Desert folk, and they finally got to say goodbye to that annoying twat of a do-gooder. In the end, they all ended up where they always seemed to end up. The roof. They were all sitting in a circle and Izzy was lying down on the sofa listening to the birds chirp and feeling the sun on her face. That was what freedom sounded and felt like. It was a bit disappointing that it smelled like car exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke, but she wasn't about to complain.

"So hold on a second," Nathan said from where he was lounging in his chair, "you're tellin' me that Ginger over there knows how to steal cars?" Izzy smiled and gave a facetious salute in response. Nathan let out a low whistle and took a long drag from his cigarette. "Well that was unexpected."

"It dozn't matta who's afta us now," Kelly said happily—or at least as close to happy as Izzy had ever heard her. "They'll neva find da bodies. See ya!" She even threw in a light-hearted wave.

"They're going to think that the probation worker is still alive," Simon said. Izzy cracked an eye open to get a better look at him He was smiling and seemed happy, but he always seemed to look vaguely constipated with the way that he sat—what with the ramrod straight posture and everything. She made a mental note to tell him to loosen up a bit.

"Wot do ya mean?" Kelly asked, leaning towards him slightly.

"I stole his credit card. I used it to book a flight."

"That is smart!" she heard Curtis say with a smile in his voice.

"You're dead good at stuff like dat!" Kelly added.

Nathan even had the grace to pay a round-about compliment. Though it probably would have been better if he hadn't tacked on the name 'weird kid' again.

"We should all go out for a drink," Simon said excitedly.

Izzy cringed internally. He was going into that creepy enthusiasm mode. It was seriously off-putting. She opened her eyes and sat up straight. Watching Simon when he was like this was kind of like watching a train accident: it's horrible and tragic, but you can't make yourself look away. Her prediction rang true when the pale, twitchy one started gesticulating wildly.

"We should celebrate!" he continued, standing up. "It's like an ironic 'fuck you' to the probation worker. We're all out having a good time, you're buried under the foundations of an environmental monitoring station."

He looked around at them all eagerly, but then the smile began to slowly slip from his face at their less-than-enthusiastic responses.

"See you all tomorrow, yeah?" Alisha said, standing off and making her way towards the door. She paused for a moment and looked poignantly at Curtis who immediately left as well. Izzy groaned inwardly. Of course that had happened. Their game of chicken was over. Neither of them had veered from the path, the metaphorical cars had crashed together, and now she was being forced to look at the horrific, terrifyingly dysfunctional wreckage.

The next one to bail was Nathan, who wordlessly got up and meandered towards the door.

"Do you want to come for a drink?" Simon asked again as Nathan was passing him by.

"Are you askin' me out on a date?" he asked in that annoying tone of his.

"No," Simon stammered, "I meant all of us."

"Did you?" Nathan said, leaning forward to get in Simon's face. "I am not your whore!"

Kelly sighed heavily and looked between Izzy and Simon. "There is no way I'm goin' out till my hair grows back. Sorry."

Soon enough the door slammed shut and Izzy and Simon were left alone on the roof. The poor kid appeared to be upset, but at the same time he seemed to expect it to go that way. The sad puppy analogy came to mind again, and though she would never admit it to another living soul, Izzy often teared up at those advertisements trying to get you to adopt pets.

"Well," she said hauling herself to her feet, "I am completely broke, so you're going to have to buy."

Simon froze and blinked at her as if he hadn't quite made sense of what she had just said. "Y-yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Okay, then," she said with a sharp nod. "Let's go."

She walked to the door with him trailing after her like—well, like a puppy. She got to the door to the roof and ripped it open with a hard yank. She paused for a moment and turned back around, making Simon stumble back a few steps.

"Just to be clear," she said pointing a finger in his face, "I'm not your whore either."

Simon swallowed heavily and nodded. "Yep."

**So for those of you who might not know, 'chicken' is a high-risk game where two cars drive straight for each other until one of them 'chickens out' and turns aside, out of the way. So when Izzy refers to what Curtis and Alisha are doing as sexual 'chicken' she is not referring to committing fowl acts with poultry. Get it? 'Fowl' acts. Anyway just wanted to make that clear seeing as it had the potential to be very awkwardly misinterpreted.**

**Also, I confess that I know absolutely nothing about hot-wiring cars. Shocking I know, but there it is. I made the whole thing up.**

**And as always: I write and you review. You review and I write.  
**


	13. Past Tense

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Holy shit you guys are awesome! Thank you to Phaex, incitanemxx, Lady Shagging Godiva, sinead, Sunflowers in Moscow, Alfie Timewolf, O.G. Loko, BlueDino95, Jaygrl22, and Crazy Adolescence for reviewing! You guys are the absolute best.**

**Lady Shagging Godiva: It most certainly was a HIMYM reference.**

**incitanemxx: I wrote the Nathan-reaction with your post in mind. I hope it came over ok. I was going for slight jealousy and then realizing it wasn't necessary. Izzy's starting to like Simon, but NOT in that way.**

**Sunflowers in Moscow: I'm really glad you liked the last line. I was going for humorous, but at the same time making it clear that Izzy was not romantically interested in Simon.**

**Phaex: Hope you like the flashbacks. I think they tell you more about Izzy. Also, I sort of included Curtis to fit with the time pretzel thing going on.**

**Alfie Timewolf: Sorry I didn't write the Izzy/Simon drink scene, but I honestly had no clue how to even try to do that.**

**O.G. Loko: Me too. Particularly if it was Superhoodie-Simon.**

**Crazy Adolescence: Thanks so much! I have read your story by the way, and think it's great. I haven't reviewed it yet because I'm a bum, but I'll get right on it.**

**Sinead: I would never have guessed from your writing that you're not a native speaker, and I am incredibly flattered that you chose my story as one of the ones you read to get more familiar with the language. Don't trust the grammar though! I write quickly and often publish before proof-reading (I'm terrible at proof-reading my own work) so there might be a ton of typos.**

**BlueDino95: I'm glad you like Izzy. I like her a lot too. Kind of wish I was her. Except without all of the abandonment and commitment issues. But those issues tend to make a person more interesting, don't they?**

**Jaygrl22: You were the 80****th**** review! Thank you so much. And I hope this update came soon enough!**

**Terribly long author's note. Sorry about that. Sometimes I like to respond to each of my reviewers individually and you guys were so great this time I just had to.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 13 – Days Gone By

It was the 12th, Izzy's favorite day of the month every month since a few years back when she turned eighteen and was unceremoniously kicked out of the house by those free-loading fuckers. It was the day she spent every other day looking forward to. And other than that weird, creepy, and somewhat-familiar looking guy who somehow knew her name trying to wave her down in the car park on her way to the building, it was just as good as she hoped it was going to be.

"Okay, Allan," she said crouching down next to the small boy, "so what you want to do is—"

The boy scoffed so loudly the sound that rang against the walls with a volume higher than the crashing of bowling balls as they collided with the pins. "Really, Izzy? We come here once a month and every time you tell me the same thing over and over again. It's getting really boring. I know what to do now. I'm nine, not stupid."

"Well this is your first time playing without the bumpers, so excuse me for trying to be thorough."

"Puh-leeze," little Allan said, rolling his eyes in a way Izzy found to be frighteningly similar to how she rolled hers, "I'm a better bowler than you are anyway."

Izzy raised her eyebrows and stood up to her full height. In her experience being taller than someone usually gives you the tactical advantage in a conversation. Then again being a totally adorable little kid did have an advantage as well. Those wide, deceptively innocent looking brown eyes of his had gotten him out of trouble more than a few times in school. And his ability to cry on command had gotten him a decent number of free ice cream cones from the suckers behind the counter. Though to be fair, she had taught him that one. And the benefit from teaching a pint-sized con artist everything he knew meant that she was already wise to all of his tricks. Unfortunately, it did not mean that she was immune to all of them.

"Hey," she said pointing a scolding finger at him, "I am not one of your teachers or social workers, Allan. You do not get to speak to me that way."

His head sagged a little and his shoulders drooped. "Sorry."

Izzy sighed heavily and pulled Allan to one of the chairs facing the alley. "So I talked to the principal on the phone yesterday," Izzy said in a soothing voice. "He told me that you've been fighting."

"I've been fighting back," Allan muttered, staring dejectedly at his shoes. "There's a difference."

Izzy bit her lip. She remembered school, how difficult it was. Kids could be terrible—they could be cruel even. "What happened?"

Allan started picking at his fingernails nervously and continued to stare at the floor. "I had one of my seizures in class—not a bad one or anything—but I ended up peeing myself. Then a boy said it's no wonder I didn't have any parents. That nobody would want to keep a little freak like me. So I hit him."

A wave of anger unlike any she had ever felt before shot through Izzy's veins. She felt as if she could pummel the kid as well, though the fact that she had twelve years and thirteen inches on the little twat should probably stop her form thinking something like that. Nevertheless, her fingers were actually twitching. Nobody spoke that way to her little brother. Nobody.

But she restrained herself from releasing the explosion of anger building up inside her chest, metaphorically stomping out the burning fuse. Allan didn't need her rage. He needed parenting. And he sure as hell wasn't going to get it from those two degenerates the state called foster parents, so she would have to do it.

"Can I have security to the concession stand, please," a voice echoed through the bowling alley, interrupting her thoughts. She shook her head and ignored it, turning back to the despondent little boy next to her.

She scooted closer to the boy and put an arm around him. "Look, Allan," she said in a voice that almost completely masked the seething anger, "I know that the whole 'sticks and stones' saying sounds like absolute bullshit—I did for most of my life—but it's not wrong. I know it sounds stupid to talk long-term to a nine-year-old, but that's what I'm going to do. Don't let them get to you and you'll be that much stronger for it. Be better than them. You're already smarter than them. But if you start fighting like that—if you let the anger take hold—it's a cycle that's difficult to stop. Eventually you might end up—"

All the sudden a voice with a slight Irish accent began ringing through the sound system. "Help!" it shouted. "I'm being assaulted by a chick with a dick! Ah! Help me! They sewed up his cunt! They sewed up his cunt! Ah!"

Izzy quickly slapped her hands over Allan's ears and looked wildly around for the source of the noise. Her eyes fell on a not-terrible looking bloke with wild curly hair. He might have actually been fairly attractive, but seeing as he was currently being pinned to the ground by a couple of heavy set security guards, it just really wasn't doing it for her. She was in the process of rolling her eyes at him when all the sudden she saw him start to spasm violently on the ground.

"Oh, shit," Izzy muttered under her breath, her eyes widening with both fear and shock. She quickly removed her hands from Allan's ears and dropped down to her knees, spinning his so he was facing her. "Listen to me Allan, you stay right here, do you understand me? I'll be right back, but right now I need you to stay right here, okay?"

He blinked and nodded in understanding, so she quickly kissed his forehead and ran full-tilt towards them.

"Quick, call 'im an ambulance," the chick with a dick was saying as she skidded to a halt next to them.

"You need to turn him on his side," Izzy said breathlessly. "If you don't he might end up choking on his on vomit."

But nobody seemed to be paying attention to her—they were all preoccupied trying to call the hospital. Izzy swore under her breath and was about to kneel down to do it herself when all of the sudden the guy stopped twitching. He opened his eyes and looked around for a moment.

"Looking good, Ginger," he said, shooting her a dramatic wink. Then he scrambled to his feet and took off, knocking over a gumball machine in the process.

Izzy's mouth dropped open as the saw him running towards the alleys. "What a complete twat!" she whispered to herself before making her way back towards Allan. From their seats, she and her little brother watched the entire situation devolve. The dickhead ran out onto the greased surface of the alleyways, trying to avoid the security guards, but when he finally got pinned against that back wall he seemed to be trying to one-up his own stupidity by trying to crawl into the pinsetter. Needless to say, the strategy did not work.

Soon enough he was being dragged away, still shouting 'I'm being violated by a chick with a dick.'

Sighing heavily, Izzy draped an arm around Allan's small shoulders. "Now that's why you don't fight in school," she said shortly, looking down into his wide, slightly traumatized eyes. "Now are you going to teach me how to bowl or what?"

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

"Now hold on just a second," Nathan said, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her to face him. "Are you actually bein' serious right now? You went for a drink with 'Weird Kid'?"

Izzy groaned and smashed her fist into her forehead in frustration. Why had she bloody told him? She had somehow developed the habit of arriving early to the community center with a book and a cup of coffee. She would change and afterwards would try to read for a while and then Nathan would show up and start throwing small, wadded-up bits of paper at her until she was forced to pay attention to him. If she could only apply the term 'attention whore' to one individual, it would be him. And somewhere in the middle of all the pestering, she had told him. It was the stupidest fucking thing she could have done—he was just going to make fun of her. The whole 'do you love him' running gag of his was going to make another bloody appearance and in her opinion it wasn't really all that funny to begin with.

"Seeing as you asked me what I did last night and I responded 'I went for a beer with Simon', I'd say the answer is yes." The look on Nathan's face made Izzy falter for a second. "What?" she demanded, pulling at the ends of her long, red hair self-consciously.

Nathan shrugged his shoulders and blew out a heavy breath. "Nothin'," he continued in a strange tone. "I just really wish I could've been there you know. All those interestin' conversations about hidin' bodies and hydro-whatever acid and Venezuela—sounds like a good time, love. I'm just sorry I missed out it."

"You know you didn't have to," Izzy pointed out. "He asked you to come as well."

"I'll have you know that I was incredibly busy last night," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "There was a marathon of the Jeremy Kyle Show on the telly that I really couldn't miss. Plus, 'Weird Kid'…..he's really weird."

Izzy made a face at him. "I'm not arguing with you on that one. But my question now is why are you being so weird?"

Nathan threw his up in the air in mock submission. "I just didn't realize that panty-sniffers were what did it for you. You know, I'm startin' to worry about you, Ginger. I keep tellin' you to raise your standards, and you keep—"

Izzy scrunched her face up in mild disgust when she realized what Nathan was implying and punched him hard in the shoulder. "Jesus fucking Christ, Nathan!" she shouted, ignoring his cry of pain. "Would you stop being so obtuse?"

"I would if I knew what that meant."

She rolled her eyes and punched him again. "Look, I felt sorry for him, okay? He had the sad puppy face on and he doesn't seem to have any friends, so we went to the bar and talked. I was only being nice. Believe it or not, when I'm not busy being a complete bitch I can be nice. So can you please stop making fun of me?"

"That's not in my nature, no."

"Well for fuck's sake try!"

Nathan pursed his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding a bit. "So what did you guys end up talking about?" he asked, his voice returning more or less to its normal register. He moved to the door to the lobby and held it open or her.

Izzy winced a bit as she remembered the story and followed him. "He told me about how he set that house on fire. Something about a cat and pissing in the mail slot to put out the fire."

Nathan's face lit up with boyish glee. "Are you fuckin' ser—"

But he suddenly stopped talking, which Izzy thought was strange seeing as he had never passed up an opportunity to talk before. Soon enough, though, she realized why. Moans were emanating from the storage locker next to them. Izzy's eyes widened and she covered her mouth to avoid the explosion of laughter that was about to force its way out. "Is that—?"

"Yes, Ginger," he said, ducking to the ground and pulling her down with him, "that is the sound of the fuck-up in its natural habitat."

Izzy looked at him like he was crazy. "Am I in a wildlife documentary right now?"

"Obviously," he muttered, looking at her like she was an idiot before turning back to the door. "Now what we have here is a mating ritual. It's rare to witness this kind of shit in person when the female of the species isn't pissed drunk or has moved past her experimental phase." He looked back at her with a cheeky smile. "Now let's move closer get a better look."

Izzy arranged her features into a carefully constructed expression of wonder. "It's like I'm watching David Attenborough."

Nathan let out a snort and quickly scrambled forward, yanking at the door and trying to pull it open. Izzy said a silent thank you when he discovered that it was locked. The image of Curtis and Alisha doing whatever the hell it was they were doing was something she was never going to be able to unsee. Nathan rattled the door a few more times for good measure. "Are you two shaggin' in there?" he demanded, shooting a smile back over his shoulder at Izzy, who still had her fist in her mouth, trying hard not to laugh.

"Fuck off, you pervert!" Alisha's voice rang out from behind the metal screen.

"Oh, don't get your own panties in a twist, Alisha!" Izzy shouted. "That's what you have Curtis for!"

"Piss off!" Curtis shouted back, throwing something against the door with a loud clank that made Nathan flinch.

"Okay, okay!" the curly-haired Irishman said in a placating tone. "Just give us a shout when you're done!"

Nathan scuttled back to her looking like Christmas had come early. "Come on, Ginger," he said grabbing hold of her hand. "We are tellin' everybody about this one."

As she felt herself being dragged back towards the locker room, Izzy wondered how her life had come to this. By all rights she should be absolutely miserable. She had lost pretty much everything in her life. Her mum was gone, Allan was gone, her prospects were gone—hell, she had been party to a murder and had almost been caught on about six different occasions. Maybe it was being confronted with the prospect of jail that gave her a new lease on life or some shit like that, but the why didn't really matter. All that mattered was that for the first time in a long time she was having fun. And who would've thought that it was in large part because of that twat who faked a seizure at the bowling alley that night.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

"Chocolate or vanilla?" she asked Allan at the counter.

Allan shook his head. "No. I want strawberry."

"That is absolutely unacceptable," Izzy said, ruffling his hair. "Strawberry ice cream is for rich women on diets. There is no way that I'm letting my little brother order such a wussy flavor of ice cream." She looked at the cashier. "We'll have two cones of chocolate ice cream please."

The two of them sat there, ate their ice cream, and talked and laughed. They didn't get to do that very often anymore. Only on the 12th of every month. It was pretty fucking depressing most of the time. Izzy often thought that this must be how it felt when parents lost custody of their kids. There was a sort of ache in her chest when she knew she wouldn't be able to see him again for such a long stretch, but at the same time it just made her that much happier when she got to see him again. She and Allan weren't blood, but she had taken care of him—and he had let her take care of him—so he was the closest thing to family that she had ever had. Sure there had been other foster siblings, but they were more of the 'bad influence' variety. Hell, Max had tried to get her to boost cars with him before he had cleaned up his act and gotten that job as a mechanic.

By the time he had finished his ice cream cone, Allan had chocolate smeared over his entire face. "You are an absolute mess," she said through a smile, wiping at the stickiness with a napkin."

She half-expected him to slap her hand away and tell her to stop—that he wasn't just a kid anymore—she expected a roll of the eyes or an adorable and slightly hostile scoff, but she didn't get one. He was frozen, eyes staring off into the distance, dead to the world. She recognized that face, and it wasn't one she liked.

"Allan," she said putting the napkin down and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Allan, is what I'm thinking is happening actually happening right now?"

He bit his lip and looked at her. "My left arm is tingling. It started at the bowling alley, and it's getting worse."

Izzy felt like she was being punched repeatedly in the gut. "Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded in a panicked tone.

Allan shrank under her gaze. "I didn't want to ruin today," he muttered quietly, taking several quick glances at her. "Don't be mad."

Izzy shut her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before opening them again. "I—I'm not mad. It's just—look, you have your medication right?"

She was met with more silence. "I ran out."

She grabbed what was left of his ice cream and hers and threw it in the trash before taking hold of his hand. "Come on, monkey," she said, hauling him on her back so she could run as fast as possible, "the chemist's is close by. Let's get you that prescription."

He wordlessly allowed himself to be pulled up and wrapped his arms around her neck and she ran and she ran and she ran. By the time the two of them skidded to a halt in front of that counter, she was sweaty and out of breath.

"Hi," she said between panting breaths to the speccy man sitting behind the counter. "I need a refill of Fycompa for Allan Walsh, and I need it right now." She reached into her pockets and slammed all the cash on the table, incredibly grateful that she had picked up a few extra shifts at the bar. It was over a hundred pounds in crumpled up bills and dirty coins, so she figured it should be enough. If only that self-important twat on the other side of the desk would bother getting his act together.

The man had the bottle right next to him and began typing on the computer at an agonizingly slow rate, leaving Izzy drumming her fingers on the counter anxiously. "Come on, come on, come on," she whispered over and over again. "Hurry it up why don't you?"

After a few agonizingly long moments he turned back and looked at them over his glasses. "I'm sorry," he said in a voice that sounded more than a little bit pretentious, "the prescription has expired. You need to get it renewed before I can release any drugs to you."

Izzy blinked at him in shock. "Are you fucking serious?" she asked. "He has the early symptoms of an epileptic attack! He needs those pills now!"

The man's lips pressed together in a thin line, making him look even more pretentious than ever. "Miss I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

Grabbing the small hand near hers, Izzy yanked Allan after her into the one of the nearby aisles. She dropped to her knees and put a hand on both his shoulders. "You wait right here." And then she did what she had to do. She sprinted back to the counter and jumped over it, careening heavily into the metal shelves behind, sending random pill bottles flying everywhere. Ignoring the pain radiating out from her elbow and the surprised screams of the chemist, she grabbed the pill bottle and returned the same way she came, making sure to leave the cash on the counter before dragging Allan out of the store.

That night she had managed to stave off the epileptic attack. The next morning, the cops knocked at her door. Fucking security cameras.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Now that do-gooder was gone, they were back to picking up litter. Izzy had never expected to be so happy to be picking up discarded beer cans and used condoms, but being forced to be around such an unsettlingly chipper individual was enough to make her grateful. It was strange being around all the others now that they weren't in imminent danger of prison. It was like that threatening cloud had dampened all of their personalities, and now that it was lifted they had become magnified versions of themselves. Kelly was louder, Alisha was flirtier, Nathan was teasing Simon even more mercilessly than usual—"It's not gay if I wank ya off with the grabber! We're not touching!"—Simon was just as awkward as ever seeing as he couldn't possibly get more awkward…..

The only one who didn't seem relieved was Curtis. It was weird really. After that glorious, although fairly undignified, start to his morning, she would have expected to see a triumphant grin. Instead he seemed even more depressed than usual—twitchy even. It all started that morning when some pretty, dark-haired girl showed up. After that he kept looking at Alisha with an expression that finally bore absolutely no resemblance to his unnerving 'sexy face'. It actually seemed more like guilt than anything else. Izzy knew what guilt looked like—she had been around a lot of people who had cause to appear that way—and it was clearly written all over his face.

After their day ended, Izzy changed into her clothes and made ready to leave, but just as she moved to go she took notice of a shadowed figure sitting on the lunch table and staring out over the water. Curiosity peaked, she wandered over. Low and behold, it was Curtis who was actually wearing his thinking face—the one where he took the cross around his neck and held it in his mouth. It was a look she didn't see very often, so her curiosity had been prodded even further.

Walking up to him, she unceremoniously threw her bag at his feet, breaking him out of whatever reverie he was in the middle of. "What the fuck is wrong with you today?" she asked probably more harshly than was necessary. "You've been acting weird the entire time, and what's with that chick from this morning? You've been dating Alisha for less than 24 hours and you're already cheating? I'd be disgusted if I wasn't so impressed by your stamina."

Curtis rolled his eyes heavily and ran his hands over his face. "You really have a problem with me, don't you?" he said in a tired voice that made Izzy falter. "What the fuck did I ever do to you? You get on fine with Kelly and Simon and even the curly-haired prick. What is it about me that you just can't stand?"

"Well other than being a complete prick some of the time—"

He gave her a withering look. "Nathan's a prick all of the time."

"Fair point."

Izzy sighed heavily and sat down on the table next to him. Fuck. It was time to be emotionally honest—and to her that was like running the gauntlet. Either way, she seemed to be doing that a lot lately. It was weird how much she was opening up to these people. "The fact of the matter is that you're a fucking whiny bastard, and it irritates the shit out of me."

Curtis looked at her like she was absolutely insane. "What?"

"We have a bit more in common than you realize," Izzy said as she started picking her nails nervously and ignoring the disbelieving look he was giving. "Look, it kind of started the first day you were here. You were going on and on about how much you didn't deserve to be here—about how much you lost because of that one hit of coke. I'm sorry that you lost your shot at the Olympics—I really am. It sucks. It's terrible. It cost you everything you worked for. But you're not the only one who lost something, get it? So just stop with the fucking whining. It's annoying as hell."

"Right," Curtis said through a derisive snort, " 'cause you had so much goin' for you, yeah?"

"I did actually."

Curtis's head snapped around to look at her. Izzy shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly before continuing. "I got accepted to a graduate program at Cambridge. History, actually. I deferred it a couple of years to save up enough cash for me to actually be able to….anyways the admissions office doesn't take it too well when you get arrested for knocking over a drugstore, whatever the extenuating circumstances may be. They don't even care about the good press they might get for letting in a foster kid. You're out. No appeals. Do not pass go and all that shit."

Curtis looked at her skeptically. "Are you takin' a piss?" Izzy pursed her lips and shook her head no. He stared at her a few more moments before letting out a low whistle. "I did not expect that."

"People usually don't," she replied, stretching her hands over her head. "Apparently academics aren't supposed to have tattoos."

The two of them stared out across the water a bit longer. Izzy actually liked the view from the community center. Even with the grey, overcast sky the sun glinted off the waves of the lake in an almost hypnotizing way.

"Ya know I think I was supposed to be here," Curtis said suddenly. And then he launched into the most ridiculous and twisted story Izzy had ever heard. It had everything: time-travel, drug use, cops, criminals, murder, sex, romance, love triangles, and by some curious curl in the metaphysics of the universe they ended up with some twisted version of a happy ending. Except the inadvertent cheating of course. It was so fucking unbelievable, well she just had to believe it didn't she?

When Curtis finally finished the story he looked at Izzy, awaiting her reaction. Under those circumstances she found only one reaction that seemed to fit the circumstances.

"Well, shit."

**So there's chapter 13. You guys were so great with the reviews I got really excited—I did squeal but my sister wasn't there to film it—and I wrote pretty much the entire thing in one sitting.**

**So there's the flashback episode. I hope you liked it well enough. I re-watched the episode and there was really only 5 minutes of actual community service stuff happening, so I tried to get creative with it. I hope it came across okay.**

**Anyways, please review. The turnout for the last chapter made me ridiculously happy. Keep it going, guys! Again, you're the best.**


	14. Power Play

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**A huge thank you to BlueDino95, PocketDino95, PocketDino01 (not sure whether or not you're all the same person; if you are, I appreciate the enthusiasm), witchbaby300, Persephone Price, Alfie Timewolf, incitanemxx, Crazy Adolescence, Sunflowers in Moscow, and Sinead for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 14 – Power Play

Tick, tick, tick.

The ticking of that crappy old clock was the only sound in the office. Probation worker Sally had called Izzy into the room at least five minutes ago to discuss her progress, but as of that moment neither of them had said a word. Izzy folded her arms across her chest and stared evenly at the woman. She wasn't going to talk first. She knew exactly what this was—after all those years in the system she knew every trick in the book. It was a power play. The last person to talk has the upper hand in the scenario—it forces the other person to come to them. Hell, Sally had even pulled the gag where she made her seat higher than the one Izzy was sitting in to give an illusion of authority. It was so horribly clichéd. And maybe it was her stubbornness or willfulness or whatever you want to call it, but Izzy absolutely refused to be the first to speak. She felt powerless so much of the time, she certainly wasn't going to give in to some bland woman with a clipboard.

Tick, tick, tick.

She could see Sally beginning to crack from frustration. The woman began fidgeting and tapping her pen against the armrest of her chair, so she did something everybody seemed to hate. She started whistling 'Ride of the Valkeries' in that shrill, high pitch. She was interrupted though when Nathan apparently launched himself at the window, colliding with a loud bang and pressing his face against the glass, then letting himself slowly sink to the floor slowly, all the while making a loud squeaking noise as his skin slid down the glass. Halfway through his display, he shot Izzy a wink that almost made her burst out laughing. She had to bite her lip hard to stop. If she laughed Sally would definitely win the little standoff they had set up.

Sally sighed heavily and removed the pen cap and tapped it against the beige file sitting on her lap. "Alright, Isabelle," she said in that sort of dead but vaguely concerned-sounding voice bureaucrats always seemed to have, "why don't you tell me how your time in community service has affected you? How do you see yourself now? Do you see yourself as rehabilitated?"

Izzy crossed her ankles and folded her hands in the most prim-looking way possible. "Yes, ma'am. Absolutely. I've learned my lesson. I can honestly say I'm a changed woman. I'm no longer a danger to society. That's the God's honest truth. No doubt about it."

The tapping of the pen finally stopped and Sally looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I may not be so well versed in popular culture as you, Miss McCallum, but I am fully aware that that is a quote from 'The Shawshank Redemption'. You may not be serious about this process, but I am. And you should be."

Izzy snorted derisively and collapsed backwards in her seat, completely abandoning the posture of appropriateness she had tried on. It didn't feel right, anyway. It was unnatural. Nobody's spine was supposed to be that straight. She honestly didn't know what these people were expecting. A mental breakthrough? An emotional catharsis? They were dealing with a group of delinquents. They were defensive and hostile and angry. Soothingly beige walls and gentle, nudging questions weren't going to make any kind of difference.

"Listen, Sally—I can call you Sally, right?" Izzy didn't bother to wait for the woman's answer before barreling on. "Anyway, Sally, I'm sure that you've just had a few very frustrating meetings with the other ASBO shitheads—especially seeing as Nathan was just in here—so why don't we save ourselves the trouble and you the grief of having to go through the process again. Go get yourself a coffee or something. I sure as hell won't be telling."

Sally just smiled that little patronizing smile adults always seem to have when they think they know something and opened the file on her lap. She shifted a bit in her seat and leaned forward towards Izzy, switching into maternal mode. It was quite unoriginal actually. Izzy had seen that particular tactic at least twenty times before, and Sally wasn't even particularly good at it. It felt fake, forced, like it was a punishment for her to have to be so nurturing and understanding. Well, in a way that made her a bit more honest.

"It must have been difficult for you," she said in a gentle voice. "You've had a very difficult life—especially with your mother gone. I can't imagine coming home to find something like that—especially at such a young age."

Izzy rolled her eyes, but still felt that slight shiver that never quite went away. Pushing past the police officers. The blood. The tape outline on the floor. The broken frame and torn picture of her and her mother smiling, happy, and wearing those ridiculous plastic crowns on her sixth birthday. Hiding in the closet clutching the ratty, one-eyed teddy bear she had had since she was born and ignoring the loud stomping of boots as the officers searched the house.

Pushing away the memories, Izzy smirked a bit and sank lower in her seat. "Is this the part where I lay down on the couch? Will there be a hypnotherapy portion of our session as well?"

Sally's face hardened almost imperceptibly before quickly shifting back to the sympathetic expression. "You know they say that sarcasm is a d—"

"You know what I think would really help me?" she said, cutting off the woman's speech. "If someone told me sarcasm is a defense mechanism one more time, I think it would solve all of my self-destructive tendencies." She flashed Sally a wide smile. "You see that's funny, because I was being sarcastic. I'm a big fan of irony."

Sally snapped the file shut and dropped it on the floor, clearly getting frustrated with Izzy as well. It probably made her a little bit of a bitch, but Izzy felt like she was winning. Over the years she had sat on sofas like those in front of people like Sally. Some of them cared—some of them wanted to help—others didn't give a flying fuck or were just waiting for their pension to kick in, but no matter who was sitting in that seat opposite her, the ultimate result was always the same. The result being nothing, of course. The woman sitting across from her this time around folded her hands together and leaned her elbows on her knees and all of the sudden fixed Izzy with a penetrating stare that she didn't expect.

"You've got a lot of potential, Isabelle," she said in a serious voice. "I've seen your test scores. You don't want to be going down this road life. You could do much better for yourself." Izzy stared back blankly, making Sally sigh in frustration for what was probably the fiftieth time that day. "Do you think you've learned anything from your experiences here?" she asked, clearly reverting back to the preset questionnaire she had been given.

Izzy glowered back a moment before speaking again. "Look, this whole conversation is completely pointless. I'm just here to log my hours and be done with it."

"How so?" Sally asked. "How is this conversation pointless."

"Simple," Izzy said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't regret what I did for a second and I'd do it again. And I don't fucking need to be rehabilitated because I don't think what I did was wrong. I would do it again, anybody would. I wasn't looking to get high or deal or anything like that—I saved my brother's life. You write that in your fucking file." Sally stared at her, mouth slightly open and clearly at a loss for something to say. So Izzy kept talking.

"This little system you're a part of," she said leaning towards the woman and waving in her direction, "it's bullshit—it's broken. It has failed me and my brother at every turn. We get stuck with people who couldn't keep a clownfish alive, and we end up fending for ourselves—taking care of each other. I'm all he has, and I'll be damned if I let something happen to him because people like you with your paper clips and your files and your fucking name tags let him slip through the cracks. If I ever end up back here, that'll be the reason."

Izzy groaned and ran a hand through her loose hair. She could feel her chest start to tighten and her breaths begin to come out shorter and faster. It was Allan. She was always getting worried when she would start thinking about Allan. Over the years she had gotten really good at keeping that kind of thing concealed, but lately with all the things that were happening that sick feeling of unease was coming back more frequently. "May I please be excused?"

Sally pressed her lips together in a thin line and gave a small nod. "Yes," she said weakly, "yes I think we've made quite enough progress for today."

"Fantastic!" Izzy declared, hauling herself to her feet. "I'll see myself out." She paused at the doorframe a moment and looked back at Sally. The woman seemed to be staring absently into space, completely unaware of her surroundings. Izzy cleared her throat loudly making Sally look at her. "I'll send Simon in," she said quickly, before turning and heading into the lobby where the rest of the gang was still cleaning the floors, same as when she had went it. Apparently young offenders didn't make the most motivated janitors.

Once out the door, she slammed it closed and leaned against the wall, rubbing at her forehead, eventually sliding down into the sitting position. Yelling at her probation worker probably wasn't the best of ideas, nor was implying that she and her colleagues were a group of incompetent trained monkeys, but she had always had trouble reining in her temper, especially with authorities. They were always so high and mighty. That was part of what usually set her off—the anger and worry would begin swirling around in her head.

"Hey," she said, snapping her fingers at Simon, who was standing on the opposite side of the room. "You're up. Get ready to be rehabilitated."

Simon nodded awkwardly and ran—almost scuttled—towards the office, shooting her a small smile before he entered. She returned a weak half-smile. Izzy was trying to be nice to Simon, but not too nice. She really didn't want him to be getting the wrong idea about the two of them. That would be absolutely mortifying for her and devastating for him. Fuck, now she was sounding seriously narcissistic. It wasn't that she thought that she was particularly attractive or appealing or anything like that. In fact it had absolutely nothing to do with her and everything to do with Simon. He was lonely. Lonely people get attached—they get attached easily—and when they're disappointed it hurts that much more. Izzy learned that one the hard way, and she wasn't about to inflict her fate on anyone else.

"Hey, Ginger," Nathan shouted from his position at the center of the room, "how come you took so much longer in there than the rest of us? Are you makin' more progress?"

"No," she shouted back, trying to keep her voice steady in spite of the nausea that was starting to build. "I'm just more interesting than you."

That of course sent Nathan on one of his rants. Izzy usually und them absolutely hilarious and probably paid them more attention than they deserved, but this time she tuned it out. That meeting with probation worker Sally had brought up a lot of bad memories and a lot of present concerns. It felt like all of it was happening at once—the day she lost her mom, the first time Allan had an attack, the arrest—it was all existing inside her brain at the same time.

"Are you a'right?" Kelly's thick accent suddenly said, breaking through the thick haze. Izzy looked up and saw those huge, mascara-lined eyes staring down at her.

"Yeah," she said exhaling sharply. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just feeling a little bit sick—I ate a lot of fried food yesterday. I should probably get some air."

Without another word, Izzy scrambled to her feet ignoring the weird looks she was getting from everybody and burst through the front doors of the building. She moved straight to the railing on the edge of the lake and leaned over it, taking long, deep breaths. She let to cool, outside air fill her lungs. In with the good air, out with the bad. She repeated the process over and over and over again until the tightening in her chest was slowly released.

Fuck. She really thought she had moved past all that bullshit—the panic attacks. It had been bad when she was younger, but it had been so many years….She hated those panic attacks. She hated feeling like she was crazy. She hated feeling out of control of her own body. But more than she hated the way she was feeling, she hated not knowing what was going on with Allan. She hated not being able to see him. She hated not being able to take care of him. Those people he was with were terrible—if he wanted a toy they would hand him a bag of rusty nails—and she couldn't help but worry about him every second of every day. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the railing.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, making her spin around, eyes flying open. "Hey, Kelly. Sorry for being so weird back there. My stomach's a m—"

"Did all dat really 'appen?" she asked, not bothering with any formalities. "Dat stoff wiv your brotha an' you fosta parents?" Izzy didn't bother saying anything, but Kelly nodded anyway. "Shi' I'm sorry."

Izzy shrugged her shoulders casually. "It's not like it's your fault or anything."

"Still," she said in a low voice. "I'm sorry, yeah?"

"If it's all the same to you I'd rather not talk about it," Izzy responded. "My personal strategy is to ignore a problem until it just goes away."

Kelly nodded but didn't leave. Instead she pulled a flask out of her pocket and handed it to Izzy who laughed and took it gratefully. She took a long swig and enjoyed the slight burn as the liquid moved down her esophagus. Coughing slightly, she turned to Kelly and smiled. "Whiskey. Good. Clear liquors are for rich women on diets."

"Figured ya could use dat," Kelly said in an understanding tone. "I know I would wiv all dat runnin' around in mah 'ead."

Izzy offered up a grateful smile and the two of them stood there leaning against the railing in silence for a while. Kelly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started smoking. The smell calmed calm her down. Nostalgia could be helpful that way.

"It must be absolute shit to have that power," Izzy observed, "having to deal with everyone else's problems along with your own."

"Dat part's not so bad," she muttered. "It's 'avin' to 'ear wot everyone else is thinkin' about me. Da otha day Simon convinced me dat if I wore a foil 'at I wouldn't 'ave to listen to 'em."

At that Izzy bust out into a peals of laughter that almost bordered on manic. Kelly shot her an angry glare so Izzy clapped a hand over her mouth to try and stop herself. It didn't work. "I'm sorry," she said through gasps, pointing at her head. "I just got a mental image. It was—" She couldn't finish the sentence properly and started laughing again. "I'm sorry. What happened next?"

Kelly glared a few more moments. She blew out an angry breath before continuing. "Some dickhead walked by thinkin' about dis place called Broadmoor. Turns out it's a prison for mentals. I can't turn it off. It's bollocks."

"You know what you should do," Izzy said suddenly. "You should learn how to play poker. You'd make a shit-load of cash."

Kelly looked at her suddenly with an expression of realization. "Now why didn't I go an' think o' dat?"

The two of them were quiet for a while when all of the sudden Kelly turned to her again. " 'Ey, if ya don't mind me askin', wot da fock is goin' on wiv you an' Nathan?"

Izzy blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Kelly rolled her eyes in response. "Ya know what I mean. Da two of you are togetha all da time. You're laughin' all da time. An' 'e keeps lookin' at ya. Plus 'e woz really worried about ya back there when ya ran off."

Izzy looked at her skeptically. "He was?"

Kelly raised her eyebrows and nodded in response. " 'E didn't say anyfing, but 'e woz thinkin' it. A lot."

She really didn't like the poignant look she was getting. It was an insinuating look—like she knew something. Izzy didn't like it when people assumed they knew things about her, whether they be nosy probation workers or people she considered friends. That had happened to her throughout her life. She was a foster kid, so she must be a delinquent. She was smart, so she must be pretentious. People seemed to apply that formula to her in so many aspects of her life. She was hoping that among other self-involved fuck-ups she would be able to escape the same sort of speculation, but clearly that was not the case.

Izzy blew out a heavy breath and shrugged her shoulders. "We're friends, I guess. I mean he's a complete twat, but he's funny so…we get along. I mean, I went with him to visit his mum that time, so maybe he feels like he owes me? I don't know. What else would there be going on?"

Before Kelly could respond, the front door opened up and the rest of the young offenders poured out the front gate. Needless to say their conversation was cut short and the two of them pushed off the railing and trailed after the others to do whatever it was that they were supposed to do. Izzy didn't mind the interruption. She didn't quite like where that particular conversation was going anyway. It was getting too personal, and Izzy didn't do personal. It was too…..intimate. She couldn't imagine telling anyone about her past in the first place, let alone allowing them input on the matter, so that talk with Kelly was more than a little uncomfortable for her. She didn't blame Kelly for her knowledge, though. It's not like she could help it in the first place.

Soon enough the lot of them were scraping off the layers upon layers of posters that had been plastered onto the brick walls of the buildings surrounding the community center. It wasn't the worst job ever—she liked it a hell of a lot more than picking up litter. Also, for the first time she felt like she was doing a public service. Half of those posters were for really shitty bands.

"We neva did find out who put those notes in out lockas," Kelly pointed out halfway through the job.

"What did I say?" Nathan proclaimed in a supremely proud tone. "I said they had nothin'. They were just pissin' in the wind."

"That analogy does not fit at all," Izzy replied with a smirk. "Whoever it was had a goal: to freak us out. I'd say in that respect they were fairly successful. I know I was pretty fucking freaked out."

"We don't know what they've got on us," Curtis said, suddenly looking worried again.

"Maybe they're watching us right now," Simon muttered.

"Yeah, Simon," Izzy said, rolling her eyes, "I'm sure the satellites are pinpointing our location and they're triangulating out cell phones. If we were worth that much effort they would have arrested us days ago." Simon looked dejected at her dismissive attitude, so she shot him an apologetic look. He seemed to accept it, but then again he was predisposed to do so.

"No, no, no, man," Nathan replied, holding his hands up like he was making a supremely reasonable argument. "This shit is old news. We have out-foxed the fox." He turned to Izzy with a smirk on his face. "Which makes us very bloody foxy." Izzy smirked and facetiously blew him a kiss, which made his smirk widen even further. "You like that, huh?"

"Don't know how I ever lived without it," she shot back. Then she noticed the way Kelly was looking at her and immediately turned back to her job. Scraping paper off brick was fascinating, after all.

Izzy was relieved when the day ended. She always was, but today she was more relieved than usual. Panic attacks really took it out of her, and this was the closest she had gotten to a full-blown one since she was seventeen. Once she got back to the locker room, she took a minute to herself. Alisha and Kelly changed and got out soon enough, but Izzy was still sitting there, completely drenched in orange. She sighed and pulled at the silver chain around her neck and grabbed hold of the locket that rested on that chain. _To my darling Isabelle_ the inscription read. She hadn't opened it in months. It always hurt when she did. But today it felt necessary. Her thumb ran over the tiny little latch about fifty times before she finally snapped it open. On one side she could see her mother—her beautiful, brilliant mother. On the other side there was Allan, as adorable ever. She stared at it for a while, that familiar ache developing in her chest again. She slammed it shut again when the moisture began forming at the corner of her eyes. She refused to cry. She refused to be weak. Releasing the locket, she changed back into her usual tank top and jeans, and moved towards the door when all of the sudden an arm appeared, barring her from moving any further forward.

"Nathan, what the hell?" she demanded, shoving his arm out of the way. "Was that really necessary?"

"Probably not," he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders, "but then again is anything really necessary?"

Izzy sighed loudly. "How very existential of you."

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

"Soooooooooooooooo," he drew out, "what the fuck was wrong with you this morning? You looked like you were going to be sick."

She assembled her features into a distraught expression, looking up at him meekly through her eyelashes. "I'm pregnant," she mumbled in a quiet voice.

His face morphed into one of fear and shock. "Really?" he asked anxiously.

"No, you prick!" she said, rolling her eyes. "For somebody who dicks around so much you really are an easy mark. I just had to get out of there. That just—it happens to me sometimes. I just have to get out."

She was shifting on her feet and starting to feel uncomfortable again. She knew that she sounded like an absolute freak saying it, so she started mentally preparing herself for the mockery. But strangely enough it didn't come. The actual reaction she got was incredibly surprising.

"Hey, I get that, man. And if you have to bail on something, community service would be on the top of my list."

She crossed her arms and looked at him suspiciously. "Thanks."

"Anyways," he said, barreling on, "there's a special on the telly tonight. David Attenborough, gorillas, all that good stuff. You could buy pizza and I could nick some liquor."

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "I would be the one buying the pizza?"

Nathan let out a loud scoff. "Obviously. I vandalize, you purchase. That's the way it works. Unless you want to give in to the life of crime."

"I'm in community service. I've already entered the life of crime."

"Barely."

Izzy narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a penetrating look. "Fine. But only because that special is the obvious follow-up to our own documentary efforts. We will be dubbing the commentary, right?"

"Pshah. Obviously. Why else would we watch anything remotely educational? It would be fucking boring. Anyways, we still need to decide whether the male or the female is called Curtis."

Ignoring the smirk that covered his face and tried really hard to conceal her own. She shoved his arm away and walked out the community center. "You know one of these days you might actually have to buy me a drink. It hardly seems fair that I'm the only one who keeps buying shit."

She wasn't absolutely sure what he shouted after her, but she thought he said 'maybe I will'. She was probably wrong though, because soon after that three words rang out true and clear.

"Pepperoni and pineapple."

Maybe it was weird how much time they spent together, but if Kelly wasn't there to point it out, it didn't really matter did it?

**Full disclosure: I'm sick AGAIN—an 'I strained my breathing muscles because of coughing' level of sick—and I'm writing this on cold medication. I really hope Nathan doesn't seem out of character here. I'm trying to imply that he is slightly more than friends with Izzy without her realizing it because she's so emotionally clueless, but I'm worried about how he's coming across because he's emotionally stupid as well. I will incorporate any critiques. I really, **_**really**_** want to keep everyone in character.**

**The 'I'm pregnant' thing, I kind of wanted a fake-out because of other things going on in other awesome stories, just as a reference. Am I being cryptic? I guess you'll have to read other stories to know what I'm talking about! Synergy!**

**I'm seriously unsure of this chapter. I know I've said that before, but with this one….maybe it's the Kelly conversation, maybe it's the weirdo panic attack, and it's probably mostly me worrying about my version of Nathan.**

**Review if you think it worthy. Or unworthy. I'm seriously unsure.**

**Also, 100? Or more if you're feeling generous. Or critical.  
**


	15. Two-Timing

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**A huge thank you to DWillis 96, witchbaby300, Persephone Price, Phaex, Alfie Timewolf, incitanemxx, Crazy Adolescence, Sunflowers in Moscow, MrsSheehanRheon, O.G. Loko and Sinead for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

**I apologize for the last chapter. I skimmed it over and found some ridiculous errors. Like I said, I'm shit at editing my own stuff, but that was just bad. Don't write on cough medicine. Hopefully it's better this time.**

Chapter 14 – Two-Timing

"Maybe I can talk to animals."

Izzy let out an exhausted sigh as she shoved the rag she was holding into the sudsy waters and went back to wiping down the windows of the community center. Four fucking hours. Last night she had spent four fucking hours listening to an impossibly long laundry lost of power possibilities that Nathan had dreamed up. Some of them were truly and exceptionally ridiculous. It had started out funny, then had gotten slightly less funny, then it had gotten annoying, and now—at this point she was beginning to suspect her initial theory of super-twatitude might have actually hit the mark. There was simply no way a personality like that could have been formed with a little outside help. Every time she told him to shut the hell up and watch the fucking telly, he would just keep talking. And when she threw that piece of pizza at his face, he just picked it up and ate it.

"Why would ya even fink tha?" Kelly asked skeptically, giving him a weird look.

"Because he belongs in Broadmoor," Izzy muttered under her breath, earning snickers from Kelly and Simon alike.

"Shut up, Ginger!" Nathan said, pointing a finger at her accusingly. "I have a perfectly logical reason for thinkin' that."

"Oh, yeah?" Izzy demanded, not bothering to look up at him. "Let's hear it then. How exactly did you come the conclusion that you can speak to animals. I can't wait to hear this one." Suddenly a cascade of water hit her in the side of the face. She sighed heavily and wiped the suds away with the sleeve of her jumpsuit before shooting him a glare. He returned with a huge shit-eating grin. For a moment she considered dumping her entire bucket of soapy water over his head, but decided against it seeing as it would probably be up to her to clean it up. But the mental image was fairly satisfying—all that soggy curly hair would make his head look like a mop.

"Anyways," he said in a drawn-out, sarcastic tone, "as I was sayin' before I was so rudely interrupted, I was walkin' down the street the other day and I saw this Basset Hound eating a kebob off the pavement and I was like, 'You dirty bastard,' and this Basset Hound gave me a right funny look."

"Dat's probably 'cause 'e thought you were a twat," Kelly said.

"Yeah," Izzy added, nodding her head. "Dogs are supposed to have good instincts after all."

Nathan let his head fall back on his shoulders and groaned. "You two are hilarious. Really, you should do stand up—but, no. No, man, it wasn't that kind of look. It was more like—" he raised his eyebrows and jutted out his chin in a way that was apparently canine in nature "—Are you talkin' to me? Are you talkin' to me?" He looked around at all of them expectantly, but was met with blank looks.

Izzy snorted and shook her head. "So what you're saying is that the Basset hound has a great Robert Deniro impression."

"Nah, man, you're missin' the point. The point is that—"

"I'm sorry," she said interrupting him. "I don't think I can hear any more of these theories. You can't talk to animals, you can't fly, you can't breathe under water—I have to admit that I enjoyed the time when you thought you could phase through solid materials but that was mostly because I got to watch you run into a wall like six times in a row—but other than that it's a giant pain in the arse. If I have to hear your 'my penis grants wishes' theory one more time—"

"Hey!" he shouted, waving his brush at her, "I still think that's a viable option. It's not my fault you keep refusin' to help me out. Alls you've got to do is rub it hard enough and then, bam! All your dreams come true."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's a whole new fucking world, right?" Izzy said wrinkling her nose and splashing him with some water. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

"No, as a matter of fact I don't. I happen to like the sound of my own voice. It's soothing, you know? But in a seductive way and—"

He didn't finish his sentence though. He was distracted by something on the other side of the sudsy glass. "Holy mother of God," he murmured with wide eyes, taking the squeegee and wiping the obstructing soap bubbles out of the way. There was a troupe of young mothers with their children.

There was a small pang in Izzy's heart when she looked at those women. They looked so scared—scared shitless even. Most of them were probably single, looking after those kids on their own. It was fucking hard. Even when she was a kid she knew it was hard. All those times they had had to ignore the ringing of the phone because there was a creditor on the other end or the late night shifts she had to pick up at the hospital to make ends meet. But her mum always sang her a lullaby at night, even when she thought Izzy was asleep. Well not a lullaby exactly—it was 'Hey Jude' by the Beatles. Izzy could remember bits like that so clearly. She used to sing it to Allan as well those nights when he cried. Sometimes she would still hum that tune to herself when she couldn't sleep.

"You see that," he said snapping his fingers and pointing at the figures on the other side of the glass with a look on his face that was somehow simultaneously fearful and reverent. "Babies. That's why I always use a condom. And if the girl looks dirty, I use two." He leaned in and smirked at Izzy, shooting her a wink. "Belt and braces, love."

Izzy rolled her eyes and went back to washing the windows. "Have you ever considered—oh, I don't know—maybe _not _shagging the two-condom girls." Then she hissed and winced facetiously. "Oh, that's right, you might not have the option of passing on them. It must be hard, having to take the risk that some new superbacteria will melt your junk off each time you need a shag."

Nathan gave her a withering look. "I'll have you know that—" he said, raising a finger like he was going to make some massively important point. But then nothing came out. He stood there completely silent, finger still lifted in the air, like some perverted version of a Greek statue.

Izzy assembled her face into an expression of complete shock. "Dear God," she sad in a wistful, far-away voice, "it's actually happened. The ancient Mayans prophesized it would be so, but I never expected to be around to see it. Could it be that Nathan Young actually has nothing to say?" She reached around in her pockets for her phone. "Hold on a second. I need to document this moment." She held her mobile up and snapped a few photos. "That's right, you work the camera. Work it."

Nathan made a face like he was about to say something exceedingly rude—or at least ruder than usual, which was saying a lot—but was distracted by a new, pretty face walking through the door. Unfortunately, for Izzy it wasn't a new face. She swore under her breath and stared intently at the windows she was cleaning. Just let her walk by. Just let her walk by. There was enough relationship drama flying around the community center, she was hardly going to embroil herself in volume two of the saga of Curtis and Alisha. And bitter, angry exes were the worst. Though seeing Alisha and that Sam girl in a screaming contest might prove to be vaguely entertaining. Still though, it was best to avoid all that bullshit.

Nathan, however, was not so observant nor so tactful. Izzy cringed when she heard him whistle at the girl. There was, of course, the obligatory muttering of the word 'prick', and Izzy was hoping that she would just continue on her way and out of their lives, but the squeaking of the girl's shoes against the laminate stopped.

"Hey, have any of you seen Curtis?" she asked them. It didn't have the tone of bitterness or anger Izzy would have expected from an ex.

" 'Oo are you?" Kelly inquired, suspicious of the girl.

"I'm his girlfriend," she replied shortly. "Do you know where he is?"

Okay. That wasn't an answer Izzy had expected. After he explained everything that happened in his crazy time travel adventure, she had been left with the distinct impression that breaking up with Sam. Now here she was, at the community center, about thirty meters away from the storage locker where her boyfriend and Alisha were currently fucking, asking them where he was. Nope. Izzy wasn't touching this little development with a ten-foot pole while wearing a Hazmat suit.

Nathan, clearly as surprised by the situation as she was, started stammering incoherently until he came up with a scenario which apparently—to him—appeared to be viable. "He's, uh, he's been arrested."

"For what?" she asked anxiously.

"Uh….for exposin' himself. Flashin'."

And if the entire scenario wasn't ridiculous enough to begin with, Simon definitely rounded the whole thing out by tacking on the phrase 'at some scouts'. Thankfully she managed to change her bark of laughter into a fairly credible coughing fit.

"Yup," Nathan said in an innocent-sounding voice. "Try tyin' a knot in that. Or maybe you have!"

The girl let out a loud, derisive scoff. "Yeah, well when you see him, tell him to call Sam." And then she stormed off the way she came. Izzy got a decent look at her through the window and the girl looked none too pleased with the situation.

"Well she seemed nice," Nathan said through a laugh.

"Yeah," Izzy mumbled staring off after the girl's retreating figure, "can't imagine why he'd be avoiding her calls."

"I didn't think our Curtis had it in 'im," Nathan said, returning to washing the windows. "Jugglin' two birds like that. I wonder if he's tried to get them in a three-way sort of situation. I bet Alisha'd be up for it."

"I jost want ta pretend like it neva 'appened," Kelly stated simply. "I can't deal wiv dis shit."

"Oh, well that's real nice," Nathan said, spraying some of the cleaning solution he was holding at her. "I thought you lot were supposed to have this whole 'female pact' thing about that kind of shit. 'Sisterhood of the travellin' fannies' or somethin' like that."

Kelly didn't bother looking at him and kept washing the windows with one hand, flipping him the bird with the other. Nathan kept mouthing off until Curtis and Alisha finally emerged from their dirty, probably tetanus-riddled shag-shack at which point he promptly shut up. Though that didn't stop him from waggling his eyebrows constantly. Curtis and Alisha didn't really notice though. Alisha was actually glowing a bit with a huge smile plastered on her face. Curtis on the other hand looked guilty and a bit scared. Scratch that—he looked scared shitless. Clearly he wasn't all that experienced with the being a two-timing rat bastard.

When it came time for their break, Kelly and Alisha made a beeline for the locker rooms. The two of them really couldn't stand going without looking in a mirror for over a few hours. Izzy on the other hand didn't like looking in the mirror all that much. Often times she found she didn't like what was looking back. Simon disappeared off somewhere. Figuratively this time, of course. Not literally. Though Izzy found it fairly funny that she now actually had to make that distinction in her head. Curtis on the other hand went headed straight for the stairs to the roof, probably to avoid Alisha. He was actually looking fairly freaked out. Trapped even.

"What do you say," Nathan said, draping an arm over her shoulder. "Should the two of us set 'im straight or what? I like this. Teamin' up, rightin' wrongs and all that good stuff."

Izzy just rolled her eyes and shoved his arm off her shoulder, following Curtis up the steps with Nathan trailing after her, babbling some nonsense—something about a buddy cop drama where the two detectives—a girl and a guy—would solve crime and then shag a lot. Like, a lot. He had apparently been thinking about it for a while because he had a surprising amount of it worked out. One thing was for certain: he had been watching way too much telly. Izzy studiously ignored him until they got the roof to find Curtis staring out over the water. Again. Izzy couldn't see his face, but his shoulders looked very pensive and broody.

"You're girlfriend was here," Izzy shouted, making him turn to face the two of them. "I've got to say, Curtis I thought you were a lot of things—whiny, self-centered, lactose intolerant—but I never did figure you for a cheat."

"She means the other girlfriend," Nathan elaborated. "The non-Alisha one. Dark hair, sour face—a little bit pissy, too." The two of them flanked Curtis, taking a seat on either side of him and effectively pinning him in place. "We covered for you, though," Nathan continued, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "I always wanted to be a cheat, I'm just too disorganized. I struggle to remember one girl's name."

Izzy groaned and rubbed at her forehead. Of course it's the most difficult thing in the world trying to remember a girl's name. He hadn't bothered to learn hers yet and they had known each other for weeks and had been through multiple life-altering traumas. These days she was beginning to find it increasingly irritating. "You know what you should do," Izzy growled, feeling more than a little bit miffed by the comment. "Take the girl's most prominent feature, and just used a nickname based on that. Oh, wait. You already do that, don't you?"

"Calm down, Ginger," Nathan groaned, rolling his eyes. "It's not like Curtis is cheatin' on you. Anyways you don't even like Alisha. Why do you have a problem with him slippin' it to somebody else?"

"It's not like that," Curtis said in a despondent tone. "I've tried to finish with Sam."

Izzy scoffed. "Yeah. You really seem to be straining yourself."

"I'm telling the truth!" he said, turning to her with a sincere look on his face. "I tell her it's over. She starts to cry and you know what it's like when girls cry."

Nathan nodded understandingly. "Horrible."

Izzy considered for a moment. "Yeah, I guess your right. I've gotten into the movies for free like a dozen times by crying. People don't know what to do with me and then they just let me in."

"Anyways," Curtis continued, wringing his hands. "I feel so guilty that time rewinds and it's like I never said it. I've ended it six times. She cries and I'm back where I started. It's doin' my head in, I just need it to be over!"

Izzy pursed her lips and considered the problem. There didn't really seem to be any out. Breakups were bad enough in the first place, but to have to do it over and over again?

That was just….ugh. She was actually starting to pity the poor bastard. He was beginning to cultivate that same 'sad puppy' face Simon was so good at. He actually was a decent guy outside all those times he had been a complete prick to her. Izzy was actually kind of disappointed that she couldn't find a way to help him.

"You need to make her hate you," Nathan said in a tone of sudden realization. "Seriously. She's steamin'. She's tellin' you you've got a tiny dick, you're crap in bed. You don't feel guilty—maybe time won't rewind."

Izzy looked at Nathan like he had grown a second head. Apparently he had grown a second brain, so it really wasn't all that much of a stretch. "Holy shit," she mumbled. "That might actually work."

"Of course it will!" he replied. "I'm more than a pretty face, Ginger. You've got to be brutal though. Tell her—tell her she's got nasty snatch gunk."

Izzy scrunched up her face in distaste and hit Nathan in the back of the head. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What!" he said throwing his hands up in the air. "You want it to work, right?"

"No," Curtis said, shaking his head. "She hasn't done nothin' wrong. I can't hurt her."

Nathan sighed heavily. "It's these powers, man," he said in a low, serious voice. "No matter what you do, the ones you love will be the ones who pay." He let the sentence hang in the air for a moment before saying a quick 'see you later, chief' and moving down the stairs.

After watching the door shut behind Nathan, Izzy turned back to Curtis who was sitting there with this sort of awed expression on his face. It was like someone had shown him the secrets of the universe of something. Izzy snorted. What a way to 'find yourself' or whatever the hell you could call it.

"The ones you love are the ones who pay," he muttered under his breath, nodding in agreement.

Izzy shot him a funny look, and pressed her lips together to fight down the laugh that was trying to force it's way out. She felt a little bad for mentally making fun of Curtis while he was so broken up, but this—it was too good. "You realize that's from 'Spiderman', right?"

"Hm?"

"That line?" she said waving her finger at him, "the one that seems all deep and shit? He lifted it from the film 'Spiderman'."

Curtis exhaled sharply in disbelief. "What a fucking prick."

"No argument here," she muttered back. Izzy sighed heavily and looked back at Curtis who still seemed genuinely distraught. She shifted a bit towards him and put what she hoped was a somewhat comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look, man, I know this kind of thing is complete shit, but you've just got to get through it. The longer you wait the worse it'll get. She'll be just as hurt—if not more so—if you keep ignoring her calls like that, and it'll get more and more likely that Alisha will find out, and I don't know about you but I can not handle anymore drama in this little soap opera we all seem to live in. Just—just call her and tell her to meet you and…..just get through it, okay."

"You're right," he said rubbing the back of her neck, "I know you're right." He sighed heavily and pulled his phone out of his pocket, fiddling with it in his hands.

"Okay then," Izzy said, patting him on the back and standing up to leave, "I believe in you, mate. Just rip the stitches or whatever. And if that doesn't work, you could always fake your death."

He laughed lightly and nodded, still staring at the phone like it was a death sentence or something. Apparently he listened to her though, because on her way home that day she saw him and Sam talking in a car park not far from the community center. It didn't seem to be going all that well though. Even from far away, she could still had that pained look on his face. It made her wonder exactly how many more times he had had to go through the weepy heartbreak shit. He needed help.

"I've got to do everything little fucking myself, don't I," she muttered, swearing under her breath. Ripping the earphones out of her ears, she picked her way through the cars until she got close enough to hear the distant murmuring of their voices. Reaching around in her bag, she fished out her bottle of water and held it over her face, pouring it over her eyes so it smudged her eyeliner down her face. It had to look realistic, after all. After that she folded her arms across her chest and let her shoulders droop in a vulnerable-looking way before heading over to the two of them.

"C-Curtis," she said in a sniffling sort of voice.

Curtis spun around to look at her, and once he did his face went from pained to shocked and a bit confused. "Izzy, wha—?"

"Curtis, is this—is this her?" she continued, pointing a shaky finger at Sam.

Sam blinked in confusion and a little bit of anger. "Curtis, what the fuck is goin' on? Who is this?"

Curtis turned back to Sam. "It's nobody. It's just—"

Izzy bit her trembling lip. "It is her, isn't it? I can't believe you did this to me. You turned me into a mistress—into the 'other woman'. You tell me you love me, and then you turn me into a slut? How could you do that to me?"

Curtis was getting more and more confused. Izzy sighed internally. He really wasn't getting it was he? How thick was this guy? She would have thought it was obvious enough. "Izzy," he said looking at her with wide eyes. "I don't—"

She cut him off by slapping him hard across the face. "I _never_ want to see you again, you prick! You stay the hell away from me!"

And then she stormed off until she made it behind one of the pillars and hid behind it, listening. Sure enough there was yelling and the words 'you arsehole' were uttered on more than occasion. Izzy smiled to herself, shoved her earphones back in her ears, and began skipping off. Seeing as she was still remembering the whole thing, it seemed fair to assume that Curtis hadn't turned back time after that display. It probably wasn't the nicest way to go about it, but Nathan was right. Nice wasn't really an option. She had given Curtis an out. He didn't have to be the bad guy in all of this-apparently he couldn't be even if he tried. But being unjustly accused of doing the thing he actually was doing with another girl might have been enough to work around his guilt in some weird way. And apparently it was. All in a good days work.

Izzy didn't mind being the bitch. She didn't mind being the bad guy, if she knew that ultimately something good would come of it. Curtis could yell and be mad and whatever, but at the end of the day he got exactly what he wanted. And he and Sam were never going to be friends anyway. She had gotten used to that sort of thing with Allan. He might cry and stomp around and say that he hated her, but that was being a parent: being willing to let them hate you as long as they're taken care of. Sometimes it sucked, but what could you do?

It hadn't been her best day ever, but it had ended on a high note. She had gotten to slap Curtis after all.

**Hopefully that one came out better than the last. A little more Izzy/Curtis bonding. The way I see it, none of them are all that close in series 1, but once they get into series 2 the gang has kind of solidified, so that's what I was going for. I hope that Izzy didn't come across as too much of a bitch in the end scene. She really was trying to help Curtis out.  
**

**I should also say that the 'my penis grants wishes line' is a reference to the show 'How I Met Your Mother'  
**

**Also, I realize this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but since it's 'Simon's Episode' and Izzy isn't wise to the whole Sally situation, there's less to work with.**

**Finally, thanks so much for the turnout last time! It made me really happy to get past 100 reviews. Let's keep it going!  
**


	16. Babysitting

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Sunflowers in Moscow, incitanemxx, Zeroko, Crazy Adolescence, and Sinead for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

16 – Babysitting

Izzy had no idea why, but she actually enjoyed scraping those grimy old posters off that brick wall. It wasn't something she was about to share with the class because it would probably make her seem like a freak—or more of a freak than they already thought she was—but it satisfied those OCD tendencies that invaded her brain from time to time. Sometimes when her brain was a 'rollicking mess' as she so often called it, it felt nice putting things back in order—it felt nice to wipe away the chaos and leave something clean and simple behind. And over the past few weeks she had experienced more chaos that was usually contained within six separate lifetimes. Pulling up those old, dirty posters, she was literally wiping the slate clean. Plus it was always really, really satisfying when she managed to pull off one really long strip.

Izzy had meandered over to the furthest pillar, headphones in her ears, and fully intent on spending a quiet morning being surprisingly content pulling up those papers. Quiet seemed to be eluding her lately. People were always _talking_. She had never been much of a people person—probably the result of having been a social outcast for the better part of her lifetime—so all this bullshit with the community service and these people, and all the goddamn talking was kind of like culture shock for her. They were always talking, but they never really seemed to say much of anything. Sometimes it made her head spin. So that morning she had resolved to be the weird creeper who stands in the corner and doesn't say a word. Right now the only people she wanted to be spending time with were Echo and the Bunnymen, Joy Division, and the Talking Heads. And if she was being honest, 'White and Nerdy' by Weird Al Yankovich was probably going to make an appearance as well.

Whatever small modicum of peace she had been hoping for, it didn't come. First there was Nathan standing somewhere behind her. Every time he managed to pull off a strip of paper, he would wad it up into a small ball and throw it at the back of her head. Sometimes Izzy swore that the only reason she was able to tolerate him for extended periods of time was her experience in child care. He really was just a giant kid. Maybe that's why the two of them got along so well. Izzy liked kids—most of the time she liked them more than adults. They were more honest than adults, that much was fucking certain. And she also appreciated their poor impulse control. When they wanted to do something, they just did it, and to Izzy that seemed really appealing. She existed in her head so much of the time, the idea of just doing random crap for the sake of it….it was just brilliant. Anyways, brutal, inappropriate honesty and poor impulse control—that was Nathan in a nutshell. She could always trust him to be idiotic and immature—she could trust him to be a twat—and in that way he was one of the most trustworthy people she knew. And she didn't mind the immaturity so much, not even the bits of paper being thrown at her. What she did mind was the weird looks Kelly kept shooting her.

The other interruption to her peaceful morning came in the form of Curtis, who was edging closer and closer to her in small, gradual steps in a manner that was probably intended to be stealthy so that Alisha didn't notice. Izzy had taken note of his 'subtle' movements earlier. He probably wanted to yell at her about yesterday and the whole 'Sam debacle'. There really wasn't any other reason he would want to talk to her, and she wasn't about to make it easier for him. So she played oblivious, nodding along to the music.

"Oi," he hissed at her when he finally got close enough. "Oi, Izzy."

"Good morning, Curtis," she said in a dull, bureaucratic sort of voice. "What is it that I can do for you today?"

"What the hell was that yesterday?"

Izzy kept her eyes focused on the wall in front of her as she kept scraping off the papers. "I did you favor. You wanted an out, I gave you one. Simple as that."

"You slapped me!" he growled angrily, taking a few steps forward so that his tall frame towered menacingly over her petite one. It was probably meant to be threatening, but Izzy found it pretty funny. If Curtis thought that height was enough to intimidate her, he was sorely mistaken

"You're welcome," she muttered in return.

Curtis folded his arms over his chest and he narrowed his eyes further. "Why would I be—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Nathan said appearing almost from thin air and wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. "What's with all the hostility here? I will not let something interesting happen without playing a part in it. Now tell Uncle Nathan what the problem is." He turned to Izzy and smirked. "I'll kiss it better."

Izzy shrugged his arm from her shoulders and continued to scrape off the posters. "Curtis is pissed because I split up with him," she said in a simple, matter-of-fact voice.

The look on Nathan's face shifted quickly between surprise, confusion, anger, and possibly a little bit of revulsion. Izzy let out a small snort when she saw it. Christ—for reason he actually thought that she was being serious. What was it with the blokes in this group? They were all completely fucking clueless—couldn't find their own arse with two hands, a flashlight, and a diagram. At least it was a funny thing for her to watch.

Suddenly Nathan rounded on Curtis. "Come on, man, did you really have to take all of 'em? We had a deal! I spat in my hand and everything."

At that point Izzy couldn't hold back any longer. She burst out laughing, leaning a hand against the pillar in front of her so she wouldn't gracelessly crumple to the ground. She noticed Alisha and Kelly glancing over suspiciously, so she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to force silence. "You—you actually think that—" she pointed between herself and Curtis "—that we—can't breathe!"

"Wha?" Curtis suddenly demanded in an offended tone. "It's not that unbelievable."

Izzy looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "Sorry, Sparky," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm afraid it is."

"Okay," Nathan said lifting up his hands, "I'd like to know what is going on here."

"Yesterday I was tryin' to break up with Sam," Curtis explained, "and then all the sudden Izzy shows up all cryin' and shit and tells Sam I'm cheatin' with her."

"Ha," Nathan exclaimed, a grin breaking out across his face and holding up for a high-five. "Nice one!" Izzy reluctantly slapped her hand against his before turning back to Curtis.

"I don't see what you're complaining about," Izzy said simply, returning to her work. "You and Sam are through, Sam doesn't have to pine about the arsehole who cheated, Alisha doesn't know, and I got to slap you hard across the face. The way I see it, everybody won."

Curtis just swore at her and wandered off closer to Alisha, who was shooting him 'come-hither' glances and licking her lips with an alarming frequency. They were going to get seriously chapped. Izzy was suddenly aware of why the girl was constantly applying lipstick. Nathan on the other hand turned back to his refuse-covered wall as well, for some reason looking a little relieved. Hell, he even was whistling. And then Kelly was looking between the two of them with a look crossed between curiosity, frustration, and disgust. The two girls made eye contact for about half a second, before Izzy quickly turned back to her wall and quickly shoved her earphones in again. She loved music. It was always the best way for her to stop thinking about things she didn't want to be thinking about.

Izzy stole a few glances over at Nathan. Lately he had started acting…different. He hadn't changed per se, but there were small things that she had noticed. Like there was this one time he was checking out a girl's arse, then he had seen her nearby and made a face. He had gone right back to checking her out of course, but the face was the part that was bothering her. Why would he have bothered being bothered? At this point she really didn't know how she felt about him. They were friends—that much was obvious—but were they more than that? Was he more than that to her? There was no way she could answer that question. At this point she wasn't sure if she could feel that whole range of emotions usually attributed to human beings. She had been trampled on and knocked down so many times, she sometimes thought that that part of human beings that could let other people in had been beaten out of her, figuratively and literally. The easier question was whether or not she was more than a friend to him. But she didn't want to answer that question just yet. She wasn't sure which answer would make her happier. She wasn't sure why she was thinking about this shit in the first place. Kelly was starting to get in her head. The girl was breaking into the filing cabinet that was her brain, grabbing hold of the files, and throwing them all over the place.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. The time was actually passing fairly quickly today. Most of the posters were down and they were nearing the end of their day. Then probation worker Sally brushed past them and Simon immediately followed after her. Izzy narrowed his retreating figures. Simon was behaving strangely lately, which was saying a lot, and it all seemed to form some weird nexus surrounding that probation worker. Stolen glances, peering through windows, filming her with his phone—all that stuff was typical Simon, but the fact that it was now so concentrated on that individual subject was off-putting. She should probably talk to him about th—

"Did you hear that?" Nathan suddenly asked, breaking her train of thought.

"Hear what?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows at his sudden odd behavior.

He was looking around at the sky like a complete loon. "A baby cryin'," was all he whispered before scuttling off into the community center as well, a weird expression covering his face.

"What the hell?" Izzy murmured watching him go. She turned to Kelly who was standing near her. "Did that seem odd to you? I mean more odd than usual." Kelly just fixed her with that no-nonsense, slightly hostile glare or hers, rolled her eyes and scoffed loudly. Izzy stopped scraping and leaned against the wall, facing her. "What's your problem?" she demanded. "You've been shooting me looks all day and it's kind of starting to piss me off."

"It's jost so fockin' obvious," Kelly muttered. "Dis fing wiv you and Nathan. It's getting' dead annoyin'!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Izzy asked in a tired voice, rubbing at her forehead in frustration. "I haven't said a damn thing."

"In case ya 'ave forgotten," Kelly said angrily placing her hands on her hips, "ya don't 'ave ta say anyfing. I can 'ear wot yous lot are finkin'. An' all I know is dat I keep 'avin' ta 'ear 'im fink about shaggin' ya. Da two of ya should jost say ya fancy each other and fockin' get it over wiv, 'cause it's givin' me migraines."

"I don't fancy Nathan," Izzy said shortly. "He's my friend, but I'd be a fucking idiot to let myself fancy him. And he doesn't fancy me either." Kelly gave her a disbelieving look, making Izzy bristle. "There's a big difference between fancying and fucking, and my guess is that he dwells on one more than the other. He fancies me the same way he fancies his left hand. Anyways, blokes never fancy me. I'm too rude and hostile. I don't do any of that girlie shit and I never let them win at pool or football—I can't flirt my way out of a paper bag let alone a parking ticket. I know what I am, and I'm the type of girl guys don't fancy. I learned that the hard way. More than once."

"But—"

"Look, Kelly, just leave it, okay?" Izzy whined, waving the scraper about. "I'm sorry you have to listen to Nathan's perverted ramblings—I'm sure that kind of thing is enough to send anyone howling for the nuthouse—but it doesn't mean—"

There was a loud bang as Simon careened out of the front door of the community center breathing heavily and looking more than a little freaked out. Usually she hated those sudden, panicked interruptions—they usually meant bad news—but she was grateful for it this time around. Anything to get her out of this conversation. Conversations about feelings were the worst. When it came to emotional maturity, Izzy was still a freaking toddler.

"I think I've just seen Nathan stealing a baby!" Simon finally managed to gasp out.

Wait, what? Nathan stole a what now? The lot of them sprinted after Simon into the community center. Nathan couldn't even take care of himself. Leaving him alone with a baby for more than five minutes together could only end badly. Best case scenario the kid would be psychologically scarred in its formative years. Worst case scenario, there would be some sort of physical injury and Nathan would go to jail.

"Why would he take a baby?" Alisha asked incredulously. There was a question Izzy couldn't answer.

"If he gets caught, he's screwed," Curtis hissed. He smacked Izzy in her arm. "Call the prick."

Izzy grabbed her mobile from her pocket and quickly scrolled through her contacts until she reached the one labeled 'Sex God'—why in the hell had she let him borrow her phone?—and kept walking quickly to keep up with the others. "Come on, come on, come on," she muttered to herself as the phone started ringing. No answer. Just a stupid fucking voicemail message that made his voice sound even more annoying than it did under normal circumstances.

"_You've reached the voicemail of whichever name I gave you. I can't be bothered to take your call, because let's face it you're not that interesting—"_

Izzy snapped the phone shut and swore loudly. "He's not picking up."

"We need to find him!" Kelly said anxiously. Like that really needed elaborating.

They walked around in a way that was weirdly simultaneously aimless and determined. Where the fuck would he take a baby? When they finally burst out the other side, they finally found him. He was standing two stories up on the roof of a nearby building, holding the baby and standing uncomfortably close to the edge. A river of ice ran through Izzy's veins. For a second she thought he was going to drop it. But then…..was he singing? Holy shit. Nathan was literally bouncing the baby on his hip and singing to it. Normally Nathan would talk about babies like they were a disease, and here he was being all parental? It was a power thing. It had to be.

The rest of them stood there in shock, but Izzy immediately started sprinting up the steps. The rest of them joined her soon enough—Curtis managed to pass her up when she was about tee quarters of the way up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she demanded breathlessly, still recovering from the sprint.

"Hey!" he said covering the child's ears, and cradling it closer to him, "there's no need for language like that! Don't listen to her. That's a very bad word and she should know better."

"You're actin' like a freak!" said with a sort of angry incredulity.

"Give us the baby!" Curtis said in a calm, gentle tone, like he was trying to calm down a serial killer.

"You're not takin' him! He needs me!" Nathan shouted back with a ferocity that Izzy didn't expect. It was almost like how she behaved with Allan—that sort of overprotectiveness that only a parent can have. But where in the hell had Nathan found it? It had to be the storm.

"I think he's gone mental," Simon suggested hesitantly.

"Tha baby," Kelly said in a tone of astonished realization, " 'e's got a powa. 'E's makin' ya fink tha you're the dad."

Nathan pursed his lips and looked at the baby with a loving expression that made Izzy cringe. Dear God. "He needs a dad," Nathan murmered, pulling the baby closer in to his chest. "I know what that's like. My dad was never around and look what it did to me. I'm gonna be his daddy."

Izzy groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "I think the kid would end up more fucked up with you as a dad."

"What did I say about language?"

"You're 'omeless!" Kelly shouted at him. "You're livin' in da community centa! Ya can barely look afta your self!"

"You've got no money," Curtis piled on, "no job."

"You're poor," Alisha added.

"And you've got a criminal record," Simon concluded.

Izzy took a small step towards them, and Nathan responded by taking one back, looking at her warily. Izzy sighed and stood still. "Look, you don't want to be raising a baby. They cry all the time. They piss and shit themselves all the time—"

"Yeah, well so do I!"

"And you think that makes you a qualified parent?"

Curtis took a few steps forward so that he was in line with Izzy. "Nah, man. This isn't gonna work. Social services is gonna take one look at you and…." He didn't bother finishing the sentence.

"Seriously," Alisha said, stepping forward as well, "that kid deserves better. Way better."

Nathan shook his head as his face morphed into a disturbingly sincere expression. Then again, lunatics are usually sincere. The craziest ones actually believe the delusional stuff they're saying.

"Him and his mum can come and live with me at the community center," he rambled on in that same psychotic tone. "I can get free food from the vending machines. I'll steal booze from the kitchen, I'll steal from other babies, I'll go to the park and forage for nuts and berries!"

Izzy drove her hands into her hair and pulled at it in her frustration. Objectively the ridiculousness of everything he was saying should be almost funny, but with her when it came to kids, nothing was funny. It shouldn't be. Kids were dependent—they had no choice but to trust the people taking care of them. "This isn't a fucking television special, Nathan!" she shouted at him. "This is a kid's life! You would be responsible for another human being's survival! It's not a hobby or a whim or a—"

She let her statement cut off when all the sudden Nathan's face radically shifted, like he was waking up from a dream or something. When he looked at the baby in his arms, it wasn't with that disturbingly loving expression. He almost looked revolted. "Why am I holding this baby?" he suddenly asked, holding it as far away from him as possible, like it was some sort of biohazard or something. "I'm not bein' sexist, but one of you girls needs to take this off me before I drop it on its head."

Izzy quickly stepped forward and enveloped the baby in her arms. "Come here, sweetheart," she murmured quietly, bracing it on her hip and smoothing down its hair. "Now who do you belong to? Let's get you back to mum." She looked up to find all the others staring at her, mouths gaping slightly. "What?" she demanded in a slightly hostile tone. They just shook their heads in response.

Izzy made her way back to the community center as quickly and calmly as possible, Nathan and Kelly in tow, making sure not to disturb the baby. She was humming 'Hey Jude' softly as she went. It was habit for her, whenever a kid was crying or upset. It had been ever since she first met Allan, when he was three and she was fifteen.

"You've done dis before, 'aven't ya?" Kelly asked curiously.

Izzy didn't answer and kept walking. Kelly must have sensed that it was a subject that Izzy didn't want to talk about, because she didn't press the issue. Once they got back to the community center, there was an explosion of sound as two women ran straight for them. One of them had tears and panic in her eyes and a vomit-stained shirt. She recognized that look. She'd seen that look in the mirror on a few occasions. Yup. There's mum.

"Why have you got my baby!" she shrieked, sprinting at them. She was glaring at Nathan with such an intensity Izzy was surprised the boy's face didn't melt straight off. "Did you take him? You stay away from him!"

"Woah, calm down," Izzy said, shushing the baby in her arms. "You're going to upset him.'

"I'm going to upset him?" the woman cried in disbelief. "He's just stolen my child."

"He didn't take 'im," Kelly interjected in a reasoning tone. "We found 'im outside, we was bringin' 'im back."

Izzy couldn't blame the woman for being freaked out. The last thing a mum wants to see is a couple of young offenders carrying around her kid. "He's alright," she said, gently placing the child into the woman's outstretched arms. "Really, he is."

"Why do you keep crawling off, huh?" he woman said, pleading with the child she was now holding. "Even he thinks I'm a shit mum."

"I've seen plenty of shit mums," Izzy said giving the woman a poignant look. "Trust me, you're not one of them. You're just a little overwhelmed is all. He's just started crawling, yeah? When they learn to crawl and learn to walk, they'll always be wandering off like that, just because they can, you know? Give it time. It'll get better."

The woman shot her a brief look of gratitude before turning back to her son. "I don't know what to do. It's like I'm not enough for him."

"You should take him to see his dad," Kelly suggested.

The woman let out a derisive scoff. "He's not interested."

"Trust me," Kelly said in a sincere tone, "as soon as 'e sees 'im, 'e'll want ta be 'is dad again. I promise ya."

The woman gave Kelly a funny look, but nodded none the less. Then she murmured a quiet thanks, and brushed past them, giving Nathan another glare as she passed them by. The three of them let out a collective sigh when the heard the door shut behind them. Crisis averted. Dilemma deleted. Catastrophe resolved.

Nathan smirked his usual smirk and turned to Kelly. "Look at you using your powers and bein' all superhero."

Kelly just looked at him blankly and flicked him off, stomped in the opposite direction. Izzy rolled her eyes and kicked him lightly at the back of his knees. "You know you have terrible people skills."

Nathan scoffed and put on a look of false indignation. "Puh-leeze, Ginger. All that anger and hostility is just a shield to hide how much she wants me."

Izzy shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, whatever lets you sleep at night. Or keeps you up at night," she said waggling her eyebrows.

"You dirty bird!"

Izzy smirked and blew him a kiss, turning and heading to the locker rooms. She sat down on the bench and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like she always did—jaded and tired. What a fucking day. That storm. As if their powers weren't enough to deal with in the first place, now they had to watch out for everybody else as well. Hell, apparently even babies were out to get them. The world wasn't fucked up enough to begin with? It had to turn into this?

By the time she had changed back into her clothes and grabbed her things, most everyone else had already left. When she headed back into the hallway, Nathan was standing at the vending machines, shaking them and slamming his fist against the front face. "Come on, baby. Come on now. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Come, on. Oh, yeah."

Izzy stood there for a few seconds watching the ridiculous display. "Jesus fucking Christ, Nathan," she said in a sarcastic tone, "I realize that things might be going bit slow for you, but do you really have to resort to violating the drink machines? People get their food from there."

He just held a single finger in the air, indicating for her to be quiet. He threw his entire body against the machine on more time and low and behold there was the characteristic clanking sound of a liberated drink can. He picked it up and popped the lid, taking a long draught from it before he looked back at her with a smug, self-satisfied smirk.

Izzy gave him a curious look. "What is it exactly that you eat?" she asked. "Somehow I don't see you going round the grocery store and you're definitely too poor to be eating takeout, so how is it exactly that you're not starving to death right now?"

He lifted up his right hand which was stuffed with loot he had apparently nicked from various vending machines in the building. "Starter, main course, desert," he said pointing the bags of crisps and candy bars, "and a refreshing beverage to wash it all down."

"You know none of those things technically qualify as food, right?" Izzy leaned against the wall and studied him for a few moments. She had pretty much made up her mind to do something stupid, but she needed a few more moments to decide. Yup, she was going to do something stupid. "Look, why don't you come over to mine for some dinner. I've gotten used to cooking for more than one person, so most of it usually ends up going in the fridge anyway. You probably haven't had a decent meal since you left your mum's."

Nathan let out an audible snort at the proposal, which made Izzy bristle in indignation. "What?" she demanded angrily.

"Nothin'," he said waving her off. "It's just—don't take this the wrong way, love, but you don't exactly seem like the domestic type."

"Well if you don't wa—"

"What're you cookin'," he asked.

"Shepherd's pie."

"Seriously?" he asked, clearly surprised. "When did you go and learn how to do that?"

Izzy shrugged her shoulders casually. "This old woman I used to live with—Mrs. Ainsley—she started to teach me when I was a kid. After that I usually ended up fending for myself, so I just kept going."

Nathan pursed his lips considering her offer for a moment, but then a sly sort of expression replaced the pensive one. "Is this another euphemism? Are you asking me around for sex?"

"Are you asking me to kick your arse?" Izzy responded, mimicking his tone. "I don't give a shit whether you come or not. That's up to you." She turned and started walking towards the front door. When she wrenched it open, she paused for a moment, looking back at him. "Oh, and Nathan," she called back over shoulder, "if I ever ask for sex, I won't bother with euphemisms. I'll just ask for it. I don't see the point in tip-toeing around the issue."

She smirked a bit at the look of slightly lustful shock that crossed his face before striding out the community center. Sure enough a few moments later she heard the sound of sneakers hitting the pavement and a familiar arm found its way around her shoulders. Izzy did her best to conceal the light-hearted smile that was forming on her face, but she still felt the corners of her lips quirk up a bit.

"So, Ginger, have you got a telly? 'Cause there's another special on tonight. I saw the advertisements and there's this dead hippo that's being totally shredded by a shitload of lions."

"Sounds un-missable."

**So I didn't get them to Izzy's flat in this chapter—it was running kind of long—but pretty much all of the next chapter will be taking place there. It might take me a while to write it.**

**I hope you liked this chapter. It felt a little jumpy to me. I'm trying to gradually open up Izzy's character, with all her weirdness and neuroses as well as her strength and compassion, and I hope that came across well. Geeze that sounded cheesy. I'm also trying to show how she's so oblivious to the Nathan liking her thing. She's just really damaged.**

**Please review. Seriously, please. I like to be an interactive writer, and would love to know what you like, what you don't like, and I like suggestions as well.**

**Speaking of suggestions, thank you callmeoctopus. You suggested a while back that I include some of Simon's videos and stuff and I've been trying to weave it into the story—the bit with Kelly and the foil and Izzy talking about the quest to find his power. Thank you.**


	17. Flat Share

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Just-another-teenage-dirtbag, Phaex, Crazy Adolescence, Sinead, warcraftfangirl666, and Guest for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

**Also, I posted photos of Allan and Izzy's mom on my profile. Copy/paste the links.  
**

Chapter 17 – Flat Share

"You have got to be fuckin' kiddin' me."

Izzy sighed heavily as she rummaged around in her bag, searching for her keys. She and Nathan were standing in front of her building in all its glory. Cracked plaster, peeling paint, broken windows, it was a verifiable shithole. No. shithole was far too generous a term. Crap factory? No, still too generous. Then, as if on cue, that damn baby from 6C started crying and somewhere in the not-so-far distance a police siren started wailing. Then Izzy realized what the place was. It was the place that dreams go to die. It was that place where all the unmatched socks and spare change disappear into, never to be seen again. But for some bizarre reason, Izzy was actually vaguely proud of the decrepit, rundown state of her living arrangements. It made her feel vindicated.

"I told you it was shitty," she said matter-of-factly. "I take it you didn't quite believe me when I said the community center was better."

"I sure as hell do now," he said, gaping slightly. "This place has got to be violatin' some sort of health codes or somethin'."

"Well the rats that live on the fire escape can be a bit of a nuisance," Izzy muttered, finally wrapping her fingers around that elusive set of keys, "but they sure can make a tasty stew." Nathan's face was covered in a look of disgust. Izzy sighed heavily. "I'm not being serious."

She walked up to the door with Nathan trailing behind. She unlocked it, jimmied the handle, and pushed up like she always had to get that front door open. She looked back over her shoulder at Nathan's vaguely traumatized expression and rolled her eyes as she pushed into the building. "The inside's better. Or at least my place is. Though I don't understand how you have any room to talk seeing as you sleep with a crusty old wank-sock."

"Hey," Nathan shouted as he followed her up the stairs, "at least I know where that sock's been! For all I know some old, crazy homeless bloke has been busy pissin' and shittin' all over the place. Why the hell are you livin' in a place like this anyways?"

Izzy snorted lightly. "I imagine I'm living here for the same reason you're homeless. I'm fucking broke. I had a bit saved up from the working some shifts at this bar on the Estate and at my mate's garage, but the fines they slapped me with cleaned me out. So I'm stuck living in a shit flat with a pervy concierge and a crying baby."

After hiking up those six flights of stairs, the two of them finally made it to her flat, and as she opened the door, Izzy said a silent thank you that she had just cleaned it. Every once in a while she would come home after a long day, drink a little too much Merlot, and get this inexplicable compulsion to clean everything. Needless to say, for a shitty flat, it usually looked decent. It was still dingy—there were still cracks in the plaster, squeaky floorboards, and rusty window screens—but it was nothing to be embarrassed about. Everything just looked well used.

As soon as the door was slightly cracked open, Nathan pushed past her and made a beeline for the fridge. Izzy, still standing at the doorway, let out a derisive snort. "By all means, come right in."

"Nice selection," Nathan called out, his head already in the fridge. "I was afraid you'd just have the girlie stuff with all that low calorie shit. You want one?"

Izzy walked up next to him and nudged him aside a bit with the toe of her shoe. "How generous of you, offering me one of my own beers. Now will you piss off and let me cook. We want to be eating before midnight."

Nathan scoffed loudly and stood up straight. "Alright, touchy," he said, making a face at her and shoving a beer into her hand. "I'll just have a look around then."

Izzy eyed him suspiciously for a moment as he walked slowly around the flat, before turning to the cabinets and pulling out the ingredients. "Do not make yourself at home," she shouted at him, reaching for the peas. "The last thing I need is you dicking around with all my stuff."

"Aw, come on, Ginger," he replied in an unsettlingly self-satisfied tone. "How could I resist when you make it so inviting?"

That didn't sound good. In fact, it sounded very, very bad. Izzy wheeled around to seem him standing there with an infuriating smirk, one of her bras dangling off his forefinger. Izzy cringed as he lifted it to his nose and took a long sniff. "Mmh. Like lilacs in a meadow." Izzy swore loudly and snatched it from him, making him break out in to a fit of laughter.

"I've got to say, love," he barreled on, still laughing at her flustered state, "I think you're sellin' yourself short in that department. I'd say you're at least a C-cup."

"That's funny," Izzy growled back, "I was going to say the same thing about you." She crossed over to her dresser and shoved the bra away, slamming the drawer shut with a loud bang. She turned back to face Nathan and glowered at him. "I hope you enjoyed that. It's as close as you'll ever get to copping a feel."

Nathan's smirk just widened. "We'll see about that." She opened her mouth to say something rude, but before she could, he held his hands up, cutting her off. "Just kidding, Ginger, just kidding! No need to get your knickers in a twist. I already did that for you."

Izzy felt her jaw clench in anger. She grabbed an apple that was sitting on the counter and threw it hard at him, smiling at the sound of it thudding against his chest and the subsequent girlie screech. "Just watch the fucking telly while I get this done, okay?" she muttered slightly angrily. "I'll never get dinner done with this whole 'constant adult supervision' thing."

Nathan just glared at her and took a dramatic bit of the apple she had just thrown at him. "Alright, mum," he mumbled through a mouth full of food. "Will I be gettin' a spanking?"

Flicking him off, Izzy turned back to the kitchen area. When she heard the sounds of the latest game of football ringing out through the flat she breathed a small sigh of relief. The guy really was a total dickhead. A charismatic, entertaining, fairly clever, attractive dickhead, but a dickhead nonetheless. Izzy tried to figure out why it was that she liked him, let alone tolerated him, but the whole thing really was inexplicable. No, that wasn't true. There was an easy explanation. Even when he was at his worst, even when she was pissed as hell, she still enjoyed being around him. It was never boring, and Izzy got bored a lot. The same bloody life with the same bloody people, it was all so fucking predictable. Nathan wasn't predictable, and that kept things interesting.

Quickly snapping off the top of her beer, she took a long swig, rejoicing in the feeling of that rich liquid pouring down her throat. She braced her hands on the counter and sighed heavily, listening to Nathan yelling at the telly. Blokes and their football. She loved the game too, but it never ended in one-sided shouting match with a screen. She liked to be able to win her arguments. Still, it meant he was out of her hair for an hour or so. She could chop her carrots in peace.

Unfortunately that wasn't the case. Around the time the advertisements started, Nathan got up again and started wandering about the flat. He was like a little kid. For some reason he needed to touch absolutely everything. And like a kid, he managed to get into every closed space—namely the fridge—and pull out all the contents—namely the rest of the beer.

"So you're a bit of a nerd, aren't you?" he asked, snapping the cap off what was probably his third or fourth beer and throwing it out on the counter. "All these books and shit, you actually read them?"

Izzy sighed heavily and kept chopping. "No, I just keep them to make me look intelligent to the many posh visitors I invite over for tea and crumpets. If the Queen drops by, I want her to think I'm well informed, don't I?"

"You know I think this whole sarcasm shit is a lie to hide how much you want me."

"Oh no, you've uncovered my ruse," she quipped back in a mocking tone.

All the sudden Nathan appeared right next to her, making her jump. "You're not disprovin' the point, love," he whispered seductively, blowing her a kiss.

Izzy turned to him, theatrically brandishing a very large chopping knife. "House rules, Nathan: Keep it in your pants or lose it."

He winced and took a few steps back, holding his hands in the air in submission. "It's alright, Ginger. No need to do anything extreme." He went back to poking around her flat while she continued with the cooking. It was always a bit of hectic when she was cooking, seeing as all she was working with was a hotplate, a microwave, and a toaster oven, but Nathan seemed to be distracting himself well enough, going through her movie collection. And drinking. It had been what? Five beers? After all the sautéing and the mashing, the pie was finally in that tiny little over-worked oven and Nathan could finally get the adult supervision he so desperately needed. When she turned away from the now incredibly messy kitchen, she found him staring at a few of the picture she kept on her shelves.

"What are you doing?" she demanded in a slightly hostile tone, walking up behind him. He turned around and she saw that he was holding a photo of a pretty woman with bright red hair. She quickly yanked it out of his hands and put it in its designated place back on the shelf. Nobody was allowed to touch that picture. She barely touched that picture. "Please don't touch those," she muttered in a rough, low voice, fighting back that slightly choked up feeling she got whenever she thought about that picture.

"Why've you got a photo of a hot redhead?" Nathan asked in that usual cavalier voice of his. "Are you actually a lesbian? Because that would explain how you've managed to resist." He flexed his arm and kissed his bicep, making her wrinkle her nose at him.

"House rules: no perving out over my mum."

Nathan blinked in surprise. "That's your mum? But mums are supposed to be all wrinkly and domestic and shit. She looks about the same age as us. And she is—" He bit his lip in an unacceptably suggestive way that made Izzy cringe.

Izzy folded her arms tight over her chest. She always got defensive when it came to discussing her mum. She didn't see how it was anybody's business, but that look on Nathan's face was telling her he wasn't going to shut up about it, and she really couldn't handle any more 'your mum's fit' comments, so she headed off all attempts at discussion. "It's the most recent photo I have of her, okay?" she said quietly, wiping away the fingerprints that had been left on the glass. "She died when I was seven. She's not going to be getting any older or wrinklier."

Clearly not expecting that news, Nathan's eyes widened and he let out an awkward sort of cough. "Your mum's dead?" he asked in a tone that couldn't exactly be categorized as sympathetic, but was the closest she had ever seen him get to it.

She pressed her lips together in a thin line and raised her eyebrows at him. "Yeah, Nathan. My mum's dead. That is how kids get put into foster care, isn't it? The whole not having any parents thing is kind of important part of the process." He just stared dumbly at her, making her roll her eyes. The twat didn't even know she was in foster care. "You really don't listen to anything anybody says do you?" He just shrugged his shoulders and smiled sheepishly. Izzy groaned in exasperation, and maybe a little bit of amusement. There was just something about that stupid face of his that she couldn't stay mad at. It kind of made want to punch him. Maybe then she wouldn't think he was so fucking cute and let him get away with all this crap

"Soooooooooo…" he drew out awkwardly, rocking back on his heels, "how did she di—?"

"What's the deal with your dad not being around when you were a kid?" Izzy said suddenly, interrupting him.

Nathan froze with his mouth wide open, before clearing his throat and crossing his arms so that the two were mirror images of each other. His eyes darkened a bit as well, making him look more than a little bit defensive. He was almost angry. Scratch that, he was angry. Izzy could see that she had touched a nerve. She had expected to. It probably wasn't the nicest thing in the world, but she had a point to make. A point she was sure Nathan would appreciate as much as she would.

"Now why in the hell would you ask a question like that?" he said in a low, rough, vaguely hostile voice.

"After that baby mentally roofied you, you started talking about how your dad was never around. How you were going to be around for Finn or whatever his name was because he needed a dad like you did. Is that something you want to discuss?" She could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. She took that as a no. "That's what I thought. So let's just leave this whole 'family issues' thing alone. I already know I'm a bit fucked up in the head about it. I really don't want to discuss it." She held out a hand. "Deal?"

He let out a kind of relieved snort. It was strange how quickly his emotions seemed to shift so radically—from calm to scared and angry to relieved….and maybe even a little bit grateful. He took her outstretched hand and shook it. "Deal."

His larger hand enveloped hers completely. It felt warm and oddly comfortable. Izzy looked up at him and offered up a hesitant smile, which he returned as well. It was strange. After a second they both stopped smiling and stopped shaking hands and were just looking at each other. Izzy often felt like she understood Nathan—why he acted the way he did and why he said the things he did. It was the same reason she could be such a bitch sometimes. A sarcastic and witty bitch, but a bitch nonetheless. But now, with him looking at her in that way she thought to herself for the first time that maybe, just maybe, he understood her as well. Izzy usually prided herself on being afraid of very few things, but that thought scared the shit out of her.

All the sudden there was a loud beeping noise—the oven—and the two of them dropped each others' hands like they were being burned. Nathan cleared his throat awkwardly and scratched at the back of his neck and Izzy marched towards the toaster oven with a special sort of determination. Ignore, ignore, ignore. That was how she usually responded to problems like this. Just ignore it till it goes away entirely. It typically worked, so why shouldn't it this time? She grabbed the oven mitts and pulled out the pie out, dropping it on the counter with a bang and fanning it to cool it down.

"I need to take a shit," she heard him say from somewhere behind her. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall," she replied, refusing to turn and face him. "I've got to share it with the rest of the floor, so your feet may be sticking to the ground a little bit. Oh, and jiggle the handle of the toilet a few times before flushing. It gets backed up otherwise."

After an audible and in her opinion highly hypocritical scoff, she could hear the creaking of her door opening and then the gentle click of it closing again. Once the door closed, she released the breath she didn't realize she was holding and braced her hands against the counter. What the fuck was wrong with her? What the hell was that weird little moment they had just had? She would have liked to say that she was drunk, but she had only been through about three-quarters of her beer. The only other explanation was that she was delusional. Or plain stupid. She had to stop thinking about it—why was she still thinking about it? Just because she thought there was a 'moment' didn't mean he did. And even if it was a 'moment'—quotation marks and all—what had actually happened? Their hands had stayed in contact slightly longer that would be deemed socially normal. Izzy laughed lightly at her own stupidity and slammed her fist into her forehead. "Get it together, McCallum," she muttered to herself.

By the time Nathan got back from the loo, she had shaken off all the weird thoughts and plopped a couple of heaping servings of the pie onto two plates

"What time is that special you were talking about earlier?" she asked, shoving a plate and fork into his hands.

"Should be on in about five minutes," Nathan said, plopping down on the sofa. He took a big bite and made the happy-face blokes make when they get a big mouthful of meat. "Ginger, this it really fuckin' good," he said, spraying small bits of potato and peas. "I think you might even cook better than my mum."

She sat down on the sofa next to him and threw a napkin on his plate. "If you like it so much then try not spewing it all over the place. I just cleaned."

Nathan rolled his eyes heavily and snatched up the remote, turning on the telly. "You know, if I wanted to hear all this naggin' I would've moved back in with my mum."

"Not sure how that would've worked out seeing as she kicked you out and all that."

"Actually," Nathan said, raising his fork like he was about to make a point, "she invited me back to stay."

Izzy choked on a mouthful of potato. "When did this happen? And why in the name of all that is good and holy are you still living in the community center?"

Nathan just shrugged his shoulders and pointed the remote at the telly, switching between the channels till he found the right one. "She was crampin' my style, man. Try bringin' girls home and mum is listenin' in right on the other side of the door. No thank you."

Izzy snorted and elbowed him in the ribs. "The community center on the other hand, that's a place where you can really set the mood. You must be pulling girls by the dozen. Get them drunk enough you might be able to convince them you live in a mansion. Then again that may make for a bit of an awkward 'morning after'."

"Whatever, man," he replied, getting a bit defensive. "That's not the only reason for stayin' out of that house. Jeremy really is a complete pussy. I mean, the guy can't even open a jar of peanut butter on his own. You can't stay around that kind of shit too long without it rubbin' off on you, so really it's a fuckin' blessing I got out when I did."

Izzy didn't bother hiding the smile that spread across her face. "I think you did it for your mum," she said, poking him in the chest. "I think you did something noble. All that talk and you're really just a big softie, aren't you?"

He turned to her with highly offended expression on his face. "How dare you! I will not tolerate this kind of offensive language!" He sighed and turned back to the screen that was now flashing the opening credits. "Watch the fuckin' telly, Ginger."

"Rotting hippo carcass," she mumbled into her plate. "If that's not dinnertime programming, I don't know what is."

The rest of the night progressed fairly normally. No more 'moments', no more awkwardness. Just David Attenborough, a couple of lions, a hippo, and more than a little bit of beer and wine. About half-way through the program Izzy could feel that warm, comfortable buzzing feeling in the tips of her fingers and the cloudiness in her head. Nathan was probably feeling it as well because the two of them ended up shouting at television screen—Nathan was rooting for the lions and Izzy was rooting for the hippo seeing as she always went for the underdog—and eventually broke into a moving rendition of 'Hakuna Matata' that earned a few shouts from the neighbors.

By the end of the program Izzy was wiping away tears of laughter. "Alright," she said collecting their plates and dropping them in the sink. "I think that's enough of that."

"Oh, come on, Ginger!" he whined. "It's only nine o'clock. We can't be goin' to sleep now. The only people sleepin' at this hour are over eighty. Hell, even that fuckin' baby's still awake."

Izzy stared at him in complete silence for a few moments before breaking into a fit of laughter. "You—you don't actually think you're staying the night do you?" The expression on his face spelled out a sheepish but resounding yes. "You want to have a sleepover? Will we be braiding each other's hair and making prank phone calls. Actually I'd be okay with that second one."

"You can't send me out there!" he shouted in a desperate-sounding voice. "It's dark, I'm young, beautiful, and drunk, and this is a shit neighborhood. I'll have a big fucking target on my back!"

Izzy's smile faltered a bit. He wasn't wrong. It was a really shit neighborhood. Hell, she had been attacked on her way home a few weeks ago. But the idea of having him spend the night made her nervous, especially seeing as there was just the one room. Izzy nibbled on her lip anxiously. He looked so desperate. The sad puppy analogy was raging with a vengeance, and she really did like puppies. Izzy groaned and let her head fall back on her shoulders. "Fine, you can stay. Just remember the house rules."

Nathan shot her a sarcastic salute. "Keep the pants on and no perving. Has anyone ever told you you're a bit of a buzzkill?"

"Yeah, it keeps me up at night," she muttered, moving towards her movie collection. "We're watching 'V for Vendetta'. No complaints."

"Why would I complain? Shit gets blown up, doesn't it?"

Izzy rolled her eyes for what felt like the twentieth time that night. She popped the film in and the two of them watched in silence. It was weird. She felt like this was the first time they had ever just stopped talking. She could feel her eyelids start to droop and the sounds emanating from the telly started getting very muddled and the images started to get blurry. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she didn't manage to stay awake through to the end of the film.

It was the alarm that finally woke her up. That goddamn alarm that sounded like the warning signal in a submarine when the nuclear power station-thingy is about to blow. Wincing at the noise, Izzy smacked her lips wrinkling her nose at the dry cottony feeling that usually followed a night of drinking. Ignoring the blaring alarm, she nuzzled back into her pillow. But then her pillow moved.

Her eyes flew open, but she was then forced to squint as the bright morning light assaulted her retinas. She was in her flat on the couch, still wearing yesterday's clothes. But that wasn't the strange part. The strange part was that her head was resting on Nathan's chest. She could hear the steady thumping of his heart and she could feel his chest riding and falling. And that wasn't all. His arm was encircling her waist, pulling her closer in to him. Izzy tried to move away, put he just tightened his hold, muttering something incoherent.

It took about five minutes for Izzy to extricate herself from the incriminating position she had found herself in. Thank God Nathan was a heavy sleeper. She quickly grabbed her shower caddy, her towel, and a change of clothes and almost sprinted to the shower. When she got back, hair dripping and skin scrubbed clean, Nathan was still there sitting on the sofa, asleep, snoring lightly with his mouth gaping open a little bit with a line of drool dirtying up her sofa cushions. After staring at the evidence—the dirty, objectively unappealing evidence—for about five minutes, she couldn't really deny it anymore. She had spent the night with Nathan's arm around her waist, and she didn't mind. She didn't mind one bit. And if she was being honest with herself, she kind of liked it.

Izzy let out a long, slow breath. Why were emotional epiphanies like these so fucking inconvenient? Why did caring about people have to be so fucking hard? She didn't see any way this could end well for her.

"Well, shit."

**To Guest. Sorry that nothing happened, but I needed to work out some emotional realizations before we got to any actual relationship stuff.**

**I hope you guys liked the chapter and that Nathan has stayed in character enough.**

**Please, please, please review this chapter. If you only review one chapter, let it be this one. This is the first chapter I've done for this fic with absolutely no prompts or dialogue from the show. It's also kind of huge in terms of relationship progression stuff. I really want to know if you like how it's developing.**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**It Belongs In A Museum**


	18. Backpedal

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, Sunflowers in Moscow, incitanemxx, Sinead, Adela, and witchbaby300 for reviewing.**

**Thanks so much you guys for the long and in-depth reviews! Seriously, you guys were awesome. It makes me so happy that you think my 'Nathan' is so on point. And sorry, Sinead, I don't think you'll be getting a Nathan POV of that chapter. I would if I could—I can mimic the Nathan dialogue, but going inside his head…..I don't think I'm capable of that. And it would eliminate some of the tension if we knew what he thought of everything. Phaex and incitanemxx, you guys are awesome. Thank you so much. And Phaex I hope that exam went well. Sunflowers in Moscow, I'm glad you liked the beginning of the actual romantic feelings portion and that I kept Nathan intact through it. Witchbaby300, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Finally, Adela. Holy crap! And that ambiguity with Nathan is exactly what I was going for. Izzy is now aware of her feelings, but she is in no way comfortable with yet. Nathan's not really someone you see wanting a significant relationship, so uncertainty and tension will continue. I love you guys!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

**Also, I posted photos of Allan and Izzy's mom on my profile. Copy/paste the links.**

Chapter 18 – Backpedal

Fuck. My. Life.

Those three little words had been ringing in Izzy's ears all morning. It was like some invisible twat was whispering them in her ear all fucking day—all fucking week even. Her first thought was that it had to be Simon. She knew he filmed them all when he was invisible—she tried to be as understanding as possible about that, but honestly it was too fucking creepy for her to even think about addressing—but she knew that Simon wouldn't have followed her home. He was far too afraid of her for that. No, those little nagging whispers had the same sound as the ones that told her which day to take out the garbage or when she needed to buy more toilet paper. Those whispers belonged to that bitchy, nagging voice in the corner of her own brain. And that didn't make it any better, did it? It meant she couldn't escape it.

It had been two days since the whole 'sleeping with Nathan' incident transpired. 'Sleeping with Nathan' being in the most literal sense of course. There was only actual sleeping. And in Izzy's opinion the whole dilemma was Nathan's fault anyway. Whether or not he was conscious was totally irrelevant, it was still his fault. He was the one who put his fucking arm around her fucking waist. She certainly didn't have anything to do with it. Or at least she didn't think she did. She remembered putting 'V for Vendetta' in the DVD player and then falling asleep not long afterwards. She wasn't that drunk, so she definitely didn't forget coming on to him or anything like that. So any part of that intimate sort of position she had found the two of them in that morning was all his fault. Conscious or unconscious it was his fault. Izzy would always remain adamant about that fact. But even thought it _was_ his fault, it wasn't his problem. It was her fucking problem. A huge, flashing neon sign of a problem.

Of all the stupid things she had ever done in her life, coming close to anything resembling romantic feelings for Nathan had to be the stupidest. When it came to relationships, she usually chose ones doomed for failure—the bloke was stupid, the bloke was boring, the bloke was predictable, the bloke was a fucking twat afraid of his mum's disapproval—none of them lasted that long. If she was being honest she hadn't expected them to, or even wanted them to. She would either end things with them or act in a way that would prompt them to end it with her. She didn't feel guilty about it, because if everybody was being honest, they were using her in the exact same way she was using them. The only one of them she had ever actually had feelings for was Ian.

Ian. It was still a little difficult for her to think about him. Ian was funny and clever and he had been her best friend in that idiotically posh high school they had sent her to. He was the only one who didn't look at her like she was a freak and she had loved him. They had started seeing each other when she was sixteen. His mother, though…she had labeled her a 'common little slut', never bothering to actually meet her, of course. Before he went off to university, she had threatened to cut him off, and the next day they were over. Izzy had been traded for a pile of cash. She knew it wasn't her fault—that she hadn't done anything wrong—but it still made her feel like a whore. The fact of the matter was the person she had trusted most in the world threw her away. He might have been conflicted about it, but when it came down it she was unnecessary, expendable. After that. 'genuine' relationships seemed overrated. She chose attractive blokes that she didn't hate, and the whole thing would run its course in about two to three months.

But this time was different. For the first time in almost four years, she actually _liked_ a guy. And what's more, the bloke she 'fancied'—she couldn't bring herself to think it without mentally adding quotation marks— it was _Nathan_. He was her friend—one of very, very few—and he was clever, he was entertaining, and introducing her to his mum would probably raise his credibility or whatever, but it was Nathan. Nathan didn't do relationships. Nathan laughed, smiled, told jokes, and shagged girls, but long term wasn't something he seemed to appreciate. Izzy understood that—broken homes, absent father—she had come form that as well. That's how she knew exactly how shitty this could end up.

As with all significant problems that arose in her life, Izzy opted to avoid it. And as always, she was magnificently successful. She had begged Max for a few shifts at the garage—she had broken out the tears and everything. It was a beautiful thing, watching blokes respond to a crying girl. They could even know she was faking—Max sure as hell did—and they still wouldn't be able to refuse. That was how Izzy was able to avoid any Nathan-related extracurriculars. Load up the schedule. That was how she had avoided people in primary school and that's how she was going to be able to avoid Nathan now. At least until she got over this ill-advised emotional connection thing. Or until the 103 hours, 32 minutes ticked by. That didn't really help her in the time they did spend together, but luckily enough she was good at pretending that everything's fine, even when it might not be. She certainly had plenty of practice. There was one thing that was working in her favor today, though. There was a distraction.

The six of them were sitting out by the lake, waiting for probation worker Sally to show up. The woman was running over fifteen minutes, which struck Izzy as odd. She had never been in a second after eight—she seemed to be one of those annoying types that prided themselves on boring shit like punctuality—so what had happened to make the pattern change? Izzy probably should have been thinking about that more, but right then and there nothing could distract her from the travesty that was currently unfolding on the grassy knoll a couple of dozen meters away from the bench overlooking the lake where they were sitting.

It was an assault of argyle, a barrage of blazers, an onslaught of polos. It was truly, truly terrifying. It was like the characters of some idealistic 1950s sitcom had invaded the community center and were trying to _convert_ them. It was a cult, it had to be. Why else would pastel become so threatening? Oh, shit. They were confessing now. All that was missing to round out the entire image of virtue cult was some sort of 'feeling stick' or something to pass around to let the speakers know they were in a 'safe place'. Oh wait, there it was. Jesus fucking Christ. It was like 'Attack of the Clones' if all the Stormtroopers were wearing sweater-sets.

Nathan scoffed heavily and glanced back at her over his shoulder. "That," he said, gesturing at the group with his spliff, "that ain't normal."

"She went to my school," Alisha said in a voice colored with disbelief. "This one time she's doing this boy, in the back of her dad's car, yeah? She gets off him and _sits_ on the gear stick. She's on there, for like twenty minutes, literally –" she grabbed the back of the bench and started gyrating and moaning heavily. They all stared at her, eyes wide and lips curled in disgust. And if Nathan is judging you for your sexual indecency, you know you've got to start looking into your life choices.

Izzy let out a derisive scoff and reached over, taking the spliff from Nathan. "That may be the most creative way of shifting gears I've ever heard of," she said, taking a long, slow drag. "I don't see it being all that effective, though."

"Try doin' that in your drivin' test," Nathan, said snatching the joint back from her. "You are definitely gettin' a fail. Or a pass. And maybe some sort of internal injury."

"It's da same wiv da girls on mah estate," Kelly added, staring suspiciously at the tall, pretty brunette who seemed to be heading up the group. "Noone's even getting' pregnant anymore." She turned to Simon who, as usual, was standing a bit further off and looking even more cagey than usual. "Wot about your friends?" she asked with what sounded like genuine concern.

"I believe that's generally referred to as a paedophile ring," Nathan added. Izzy could hear that stupid, arrogant, oddly attractive grin on his face. Izzy didn't bother to tell him off. She just reached up from her place on ground and smacked him upside the head.

"I'm not a paedophile," Simon said in a quiet, but insistent voice.

"Yeah?" Nathan asked, leveling Simon with a hostile stare. "You'd screw your own sister for a slice of cheese!"

"I don't even like cheese," he mumbled back weakly.

"That makes it even worse, you sick bastard!"

Izzy sighed heavily at the antics and studied her fingernails. "I like cheese," she muttered unthinkingly.

"So you'd screw his sister, then?" he demanded, turning around in his seat to face her, wearing an expression of perverted excitement. "Now there's nothing at all wrong with that. It's the most beautiful thing in the world, and you know what? I think you should let the whole world see that love."

Izzy sighed heavily and didn't bother turning around, and just flicked him off. Sometimes it was difficult to remember why she fancied the twat. It was a hell of a lot easier when she didn't realize that she fancied him. Now she had her own sanity to question as well as his.

"Maybe she's just done sittin' on her dad's gearstick," Curtis said from his spot next to her. "I mean, it's just a thought."

Izzy snorted and ran her hands down her face. "People don't change," she said in a tired voice. "I mean they can, but not that quickly. And not that much. I mean, she's gone from fucking gearsticks to blushing every time somebody uses the word 'fuck'? It's too weird."

"An' it's not just 'er is it?" Kelly added, gesturing over at two other walking, talking cardigans heading their direction. "There's more."

Curtis's eyes widened and his jaw dropped so dramatically, Izzy felt like she was watching a cartoon. "I know 'im," he said in a voice of complete shock.

"Oi, you!" Nathan hissed, waving the two twats over with a conspiratorial look on his face. They approached the group with these weird bewildered but benevolent looks on their faces, like they were walking around in a fog. In Izzy's opinion there was a high likelihood that they had both recently sustained major concussions.

"Can I help you?" the bloke asked, a silly smile covering his face.

Nathan just waved him in closer until the two of them were almost face-to-face. "Why are you all dressed like retards?" he asked in a sarcastic tone. Izzy had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep the laughter from spilling out. Leave it to Nathan to say the things everybody's thinking but are too afraid to say. The strange part was, the guy just smiled back at them with benevolent good-heartedness. It was like looking into the sun. And it was giving her a head-ache.

"There's a meeting in the community center tonight," the bloke said, as if that answered the question. "You should come along and find out. All of you."

"No thanks," muttered under her breath, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Last time a joined cult it didn't end well. I had to go out and buy a whole new set of clothes. Couldn't get the Koolaid stains out."

"Now, Ginger, stop bein' so rude," Nathan went on, patting her on top of her head in the most patronizing way possible. "We'll definitely see you there, buddy!"

The two of them walked away, all smiles and waves and giving cheerful thumbs-up. It was just so very wrong. That sort of saccharin smile always made Izzy nauseous.

Curtis exhaled sharply, shaking his head at their retreating figures. "He used to be a right headcase. This is weird."

The lot of them stared off after that group. That brunette that looked like their leader was going on and on about how 'they needed to help them' or some bollocks like that. Ugh. How patronizing could you get?

"Alright," Izzy said, pushing herself to her feet. "I don't think I can watch this shit anymore."

She marched off towards the community center, stopping to get a drink, and went to the main lobby to check and see if Sally was waiting for them in her office. She wasn't. Izzy grabbed her book from her locker and plopped down in one of those crappy uncomfortable chairs before starting to read. One by one, the rest of them filed in, plopping down themselves, except for Nathan who started dicking around with a football.

After a few minutes of lazing about, listening only to the smacking of Alisha's gum and the tapping noise as Nathan kicked the football around, Kelly cleared her throat suddenly. "Where da fock is da probation worka? She's neva late."

"I think she's gone on holiday," Simon responded in a despondent tone. "She said she was going to Greece." He sounded exhausted, or maybe depressed. Izzy put her book down and took and stared at him for a few moments. He looked it too. He had the distinct expression of someone who had given up. She had seem it plenty of times before, and it was never good news."

"Nah," Curtis broke in. "They would've sent someone to cover 'er."

The sound of Nathan tapping the ball around had stopped, making Izzy turn to him expectantly. She was not disappointed. "You know what we should do," he said, waving his hands around frantically, "we should get someone from probation headquarters to come down here right now to supervise us!"

"Don't be a prick, Nathan," Izzy said with a heavy sigh. "If the probation worker's not here, she doesn't sign off on our time sheets. If we don't have someone to sign off on our timesheets, we have to come back here again."

Nathan shot her a light-hearted glare and kicked the football at her, which she caught easily. "Why've you always got to be such a buzzkill, Ginger?" he demanded, a confident smirk covering his face. "I would've thought you'd be glad to have me around for a bit longer."

Izzy rolled her eyes and threw the ball at him, smiling inwardly at his yelp when it collided the side of his head. Izzy snorted lightly and moved to open up her book again when she noticed Alisha shooting Curtis a seductive look. Then, of course, Curtis put on his disturbing 'sexy face' and the two of them almost ran towards the locker room.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Izzy shouted after them. "That's all it takes?" The only answer she got was a few giggles from Alisha and the slamming of the door behind them. Seriously, what happened to romance? Scratch romance, what had happened to foreplay? There might be something to be said for going right for the gold, but the community center locker room was hardly the place for basic training.

Izzy shimmied down in her chair a bit and propped her feet up on the seat in front of her, bringing the book back up to her face. It didn't last long though. She was only about two sentences in when there was a sudden loud banging noise that almost made her drop the book entirely. The football was slowly bouncing away from Simon, who was standing there, glaring daggers at an incredibly smug looking Nathan. Izzy rolled her eyes again. What a prick?

Then something entirely unexpected happened. Simon sprinted towards Nathan, grabbing a cardboard box and throwing it hard at Nathan's head. The two of them stood there for a few moments, almost like they were frozen. Simon looked murderous, and Nathan just looked amused. The smirk widened a little. "Well this is intense."

Without another word, Simon stomped off angrily, yanking the door open violently. Before he could get a proper dramatic exit Nathan started to play around with the football. Izzy groaned heavily, knowing where this was going. She and Kelly both pleaded with him not to do it, but he still kicked at the ball, sending it flying into the door right near Simon's head.

Kelly glared at Nathan for a moment and swore heavily, before following Simon out. Nathan, wonderfully insensitive Nathan, just started laughing. "Do you believe this shit?" he said through a wide smile, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder at Kelly and Simon.

Izzy pinched at the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. "Yes, Nathan, I can absolutely believe this shit. Is it really necessary to bully Simon all the time, or is being a prick genetically coded into your DNA?"

Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, groaning loudly. "Not you too, Ginger! Why is everybody here so fuckin' sensitive? Seriously. Why did I have to end up surrounded by a bunch of pussies?"

Izzy scoffed loudly, grabbed her drink, and stood up, moving to the door herself. If this wasn't going to count towards her 200 hours, then she was out of there. As she walked, she could feel Nathan's eyes burning her hole in her back. It made her chest constrict a bit. Goddamn this stupid mother-fucking crush. It was really cramping her style. Pausing at the door, she took a deep breath and drummed her fingers on the door before turning back to face him.

"Look," she said to him through a light sigh, "I get the whole sarcasm thing—usually I'm right there with you. I mean, I've laughed more in the past few weeks than…." She couldn't really finish the though so she just let the sentence die, Shaking her head, she looked back up at him, catching is eyes with hers. "But sometimes you've just got to read the room, man." She shot him a half-smile, but he didn't return it. "I'm going to head to the garage," she said quietly. "I need to save up some cash if I'm ever going to get out of that shithole of a flat. Cecil the cockroach isn't exactly an ideal roommate."

"Okay, then," he said, giving her a sarcastic salute."

Izzy nodded slightly before walking down the hall. She didn't make it far, though. As soon as she made it past that wall of windows she stopped and slammed her forehead into the wall in frustration. Why the fuck did she have to say that—to be all sensitive and shit? She had had this stupid fucking crush for two days, and she was already having weepy, pedantic conversations about feelings? That was simply unacceptable.

By the time she made it to the lockers, Kelly and Simon had already changed.

"—'E doesn't care wot anyone says ta 'im," she heard Kelly say. " 'E finks it's da same for everyone."

"But it's not though, is it?" Simon said in a serious voice, walking towards her. "Me and you, we're not like that." Izzy cleared her throat a little, to make sure they knew she was there. She shivered a bit when Simon turned to face her. The intensity of his stare was off-putting. "How do you do it?" he asked her suddenly. "You don't care what people think or say. How do you do it?'

Izzy laughed lightly and shifted slightly under the sudden scrutiny. "My apathy is a carefully honed skill," she said, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly and trying to make the subject sound as light as possible. "It was cultivated after years of neglect and rejection. Eventually you've just got to stop giving a shit. Because fuck them, you know?"

Simon just blinked and stared off into space, but then Kelly got a weird look on her face. "What are ya talkin' about?" she asked him, confusion written plainly over her face. Simon just smoothed his hair down in that strange way he always did when he was uncomfortable, mumbled a quiet 'nothing' and then vanished. Figuratively, not literally.

When he was gone, Kelly turned to Izzy with an exasperated sort of expression. "Ya've got ta talk ta Nathan about this shit."

Izzy choked on the drink she had taken a long swig of, spluttering and barely avoiding a spit-take. "Excuse me? Why've I got to do it?"

" 'Cause you're da only one he might listen to." Izzy stared at the other girl in shock for a few moments. She opened her mouth to contradict Kelly, but she was promptly cut off. "Don' botha tryin' ta deny it," she continued, rolling her eyes heavily. "Da two of ya have got some weird bollocks connection fing goin' on. I don' know wha' the fock it is, but 'e might listen to you so…."

Kelly folded her arms over her chest and fixed Izzy with an expectant stare. Izzy closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "Fine," she said shortly. "Fine, I'll talk to him. But not today. I've got a shift at the garage and I can't do it today. I'll talk to him tomorrow. But you're buying the pizza I'm bringing. He responds better to things when there's food around, and I've already wasted enough on him."

"Deal."

After Kelly left, Izzy turned around and slammed her head into the lockers. How did she get herself into this kind of shit?

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Probation worker Sally didn't bother showing up the next day either. Apparently none of them were really expecting her to, because nobody bothered to change into their jumpsuits. And they did the only thing they really could do. They had wheelchair races through the hallways. All of them except Nathan and Alisha that is, Alisha because she wasn't there yet and Nathan because he was too bust phoning various sex chat lines. Why did she fancy him again?

Their antics were cut short though when this imposing and weirdly intense guy strode through the doors that led to Sally's office. Sour face, ramrod straight posture, traces of a superiority complex. Yup, he was definitely a cop.

"What's he doin' here?" Curtis asked in an anxious sort of voice.

"That's a very good question," Izzy muttered, taking a long sip of the drink in her hand. She didn't have very long to dwell on the question, because something infinitely more disturbing waltzed through the door.

It was Alisha. Or at least it was a clone that looked like Alisha, because there was no way in hell the girl with no makeup, hair pulled back, and wearing someone's gran's housecoat was the same girl who had been fucking Curtis in bathroom the previous day. The four of them stared after her, jaws gaping so widely that they might as well have been dragging on the floor.

Kelly was the first of them to regain the capacity for speech. "Wot. Iz op. Wiv that?"

"Again," Izzy said, wheeling up to the window to stare after the mutant that had so cheerfully strode in. "That is a very good question."

A few moments later Curtis was out of his chair and marching through the doors towards her. Izzy squinted after him and her eyes fell on Alisha again. It was like the community center had entered the fucking twilight zone. And then she noticed that little white ribbon on Alisha's lapel. It was the same as the ones those twats from yesterday were wearing. Holy hell. Alisha had joined the cult. There had to be some weird power bullshit behind this, because Alisha cleaning up her act….there was no way that was voluntary. She loved herself far too much for that. Izzy would never admit to it, and would never have thought she would ever feel this way, but she kind of wanted the old Alisha back. This one was far too creepy. Like the character in horror movies who you think is just a sweet old woman until she tries to eat your face off.

"We need to have a house meeting or whatever," Izzy said to the others, never bothering to look away from Curtis and Alisha. "Seriously. I'll find Nathan, you get Curtis, because this shit—it needs to be dealt with."

Izzy turned and wheeled to peer into Sally's office. Nathan wasn't there. Abandoning the wheel chair she scoured the area until finally moving to the back entrance, she cracked the door open only to see Nathan approaching, a joint hanging off his lip and that weird brunette from yesterday glaring at his back like she was trying to light him on fire with her mind. All the sudden that girl made eye contact with her, and Izzy could feel a shiver run down her spine. All she could see in the stair was hatred, bitterness, and judgment. Typical 'moral activist'. You hate the people you see and you try to change them to suit your fucking standards. Izzy glowered back, not breaking eye contact until the girl flipped her hair dramatically and stormed off in those prim, proper shoes of hers.

"Oi, earth to Ginger!" Nathan said, waving a hand in front of her face. "What's goin' on with you? You've got that pissy disapprovin' look and for once I didn't do anythin'. What gives?"

Izzy shook her head, forcing the creepy girl out of her head and looked at Nathan. "There's something you've got to see."

He snorted and took a long drag from his joint. "I'm flattered. I have to say I'm surprised it took you this long to offer. Now just give us a peak at the goods," he said gesturing at her to lift her shirt, "and then I'm sure we can work out some sort of arr—"

"Alisha's been virginized," she said quickly, opting for once not to smack him upside the head this time. "I'm pretty sure she's even wearing knickers today."

Without another word she grabbed hold of his hand and yanked him after her until they got to the toilets where Curtis, Kelly, and Simon were already waiting. Izzy closed the door behind her and locked it while Nathan strode straight for the urinal and started taking the piss. Literally.

"Oh, come on!" she shouted, shielding her eyes as she turned around to see him standing there. "How's about a little warning the next time you decide to whip your chap out like that."

"Stop actin' like you don't want to see it, Ginger," he shouted over his shoulder.

Izzy swore at him and followed Kelly's suit, turning and staring determinedly in the opposite direction. "So I think this is all to do with that lot from yesterday," she shouted over her shoulder. "I told you people don't change that fast. And she's got one of those stupid fucking ribbons as well."

"Yeah," she heard Curtis say. "She's sayin' all this weird stuff about sex and—she says she's savin' herself until she's ready to make a proper commitment."

Izzy let out an involuntary snort. "It's a bit late for that."

"That's what I said."

At the sound of a fly being zipped, Izzy turned around to face the guys but stayed in the far corner. Nathan was looking at Curtis with a pitying expression. "It's a sad day for all of us when a bird like that decides to pull up her knickers."

Izzy could see Curtis's jaw clench and unclench in anger. "You realize that's my girlfriend you're talkin' about," he spat angrily, looking at Nathan like he wanted to start something.

"Give it a rest, Curtis," she said pinching the bridge of her nose. Too much testosterone. "No need to get all hostile and shit. It's not like Alisha was ever Mother Theresa."

"Yeah, man," Nathan said in a placating voice, putting a hand on Curtis's shoulder. "And I feel your pain."

"Wash your hands before you touch me," Curtis growled, pointing a finger in Nathan's face.

"Have ya finished?" Kelly called out, interrupting them. Izzy was fairly certain the girl already knew he was done, and was just trying to change the subject.

"The beast is back in his cage," Nathan replied in a dramatic voice. "He is sleeping. Sh!"

Izzy snorted again and pushed off the wall she was leaning against, walking towards them. "The beast? That is a special kind of exaggeration."

"What do you know about it?" Nathan demanded, scoffing in mock offense. "Are suddenly an expert on the state of my cock? How would you know?"

Izzy rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Come on, Nathan. You talk about it so much the thing might as well have its own fucking twitter account."

Nathan opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a collective groan emanting from the three others.

"Stop wiv da fockin' bickerin'," Kelly groaned, pointing between the two of them. "We've gotta solve dis."

"It's that lot we saw yesterday," Curtis exploded. "She's dressin' like that! They did somethin' to her."

"Wha'?" Kelly asked with a confused look on her face. "Like brainwashin' or somefin'?"

"It's the storm," Simon muttered quietly from his corner. Izzy pressed her lips together and nodded and agreement. She turned and saw that Nathan was giving her a funny look.

"How do you know that?" Nathan asked, suddenly rounding on Simon. "You don't know that."

Nathan shot him an angry glare. "When weird stuff happens, it's always the storm. Haven't you worked that out yet?"

"He's got a point," Curtis interjected. But Nathan wasn't paying attention to Curtis. He was busy staring at Simon, looking him up and down like he was appraising him or something.

"Did you just suddenly grow a set of balls?"

Simon glared back a few moments before pushing off the wall and standing in front of Nathan. Holy shit, he was actually going to confront the twat. She knew it must seem patronizing, but Izzy could feel a small bubble of pride build up in her chest. She was proud of him. But she was also aware that there was something really fucking weird going on with him right now. "I've always had a set of balls," he said, moving so he was standing toe-to-toe with Nathan. "You've just never seen them."

Izzy slammed her fist to her forehead when she heard the words leave his mouth. She was trying really, really hard not to laugh. Nathan, of course, wasn't so considerate. He actually giggled. "That is about the gayest thing I've ever heard."

"Shut op!" Kelly—the perennial voice of maturity, however that had managed to happen—shouted at them. "We need to find out wot's goin' on wiv 'er!"

They didn't find out what it was though. Not that they had much to go on. Two hours brainstorming locked in the toilet, and they didn't come up with a damn thing. Actually she should re-phrase that: they hadn't come up with anything useful. They had gone through the normal stuff: Was it contagious? Was it spread by touch? And then there were the truly bizarre theories, the most ridiculous of which was Nathan's idea that someone was wandering around with a magical chastity belt. She had hit him after that one.

And so Izzy found herself back at the community center in the middle of the night, holding the pepperoni and pineapple pizza Kelly had bought. She paused a moment before walking through those doors. What the fuck was she doing? She was helping Simon. That's what she was doing.

When she got to Nathan's 'living quarters', a term she used loosely, she could hear him singing and humming while making his bed. Izzy couldn't help smile to herself. It was just so ridiculous and so adorable. After watching him a few moments like a creepy stalker, she lifted her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill, high-pitched whistle. Nathan looked over the edge of the balcony and smiled widely.

"Look at that," he said through a smirk. "Ginger's busy takin' care of me again. You know if you don't stop showin' up like this—" he waved a finger at her "—I'm goin' to have to revisit that whole 'you're stalkin' me' theory."

Izzy rolled her eyes and let out a light laugh. "Well if I'm making you uncomfortable," she said, shrugging her shoulders in a bemused fashion, "I could always just go." She turned back to the door and was moving to push it open.

"Now hold on there, love," he shouted back, "no need to do anythin' extreme." He eyed the pizza with hunger. "Pineapple and pepperoni?"

"What else would it be?"

A few moments later Izzy was sitting on Nathan's most likely soiled mattress, leaning against the railing and taking large, unladylike bites of pizza. Nathan was sprawled out next to her, and kept shooting her these strange glances. After a bit of an awkward silence, Izzy cleared her throat and put her pizza down on the cardboard.

"So why do you give Simon such a hard time?" she asked as casually as possible, licking her fingers. For some reason Nathan was paying very specific attention to her while she was doing so. Like he was zoning out and her face was in the way. "Oi," she said, waving a hand in his face. "Answer the fucking question."

Nathan shook his head a little and scoffed loudly. "I give everyone a hard time. I'm undiscriminatin' that way. It's one of my many charms."

"But you go after him specifically," she continued, wiping her still-greasy hands on her trousers. "All the names and shit. You've got to stop doing that."

"Aw, I'm just screwin' around," he mumbled, tossing his gnawed on pizza crust on the cardboard as well.

"Just leave him, okay?" Izzy said, giving him a poignant look. "It seems like he's got other shit going on and he doesn't need you fucking with him."

He looked at her with wide eyes. "Do you love h—?"

But Izzy cut him off. "You really need to decide whether that joke is worth getting slapped upside the head again."

"Alright!" he said holding his hands up in submission. "Alright, touchy, I'll leave your little boyfriend alone.

"Well good then," Izzy replied, leaning forward and making a face at him. When she leaned back against the railing, she realized she was sitting on something and shifted a bit, grabbing hold of it and pulling it out from under her. It was a crusty old sock. Wait, crusty? Oh, dear God. "Ugh!" she shouted, tossing the sock at him. "Was that your wank sock?"

A huge smirk covered Nathan's face. "Guilty."

Izzy gagged slightly and started wiping her hands on the sheets. Anything to get that off of her. And then she realized that the sheets were probably just as soiled and violated as that one sad little sock. "Why don't you just use some tissues like a normal person?" she demanded, grimacing at him.

"That requires planning, man. Who's that organized?"

"Anyone. Anyone in the entirety of the world is that organized."

"No, no, no," he said, pushing himself up to the sitting position and waving his hands around like he was about to make an immensely reasonable point. "Look, you've just knocked one out, right, you're lyin' there, you're feeling cheap and deflated, there's a pool of rapidly cooling spunk on your stomach, you're looking around for something to mop up with – Oh, hello, what's this? It's a sock. Job done. Thank you."

"Well who can argue with logic like that?" In spite of herself, Izzy started smiling at him, and he smirked back. "Maybe that's you're power," Izzy said, making a face at him. "We could call you Sir Wanks-a-lot."

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her like she was on to something. "I am very good at it."

Izzy snorted lightly. "I'm probably going to regret asking this question, but do you have any ideas of what it could be yet."

Nathan scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I give up—I obviously haven't got one. Where's the logic?"

"You're not missing out on much," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "It's not like mine is all that exciting or anything. It only works when someone's attacking me, and I don't plan on having that happen very often. Haven't even used it since that day…"

"You know why it is, though? It's because you can't improve upon perfection.'

Izzy rolled her eyes. "I can't see any other possible explanation."

He flexed his arm and waggled his eyebrows at her. Izzy smirked and leaned it to feel what would no doubt be a startling lack of muscle definition, but he shook his head, tutting at her like a mum who just found their kid shoveling candies in their mouth before dinner. "Sorry, Ginger. Look but don't touch," he said in a seductive tone, kissing his own bicep.

The two of them sat there in silence for a while. He kept glancing up at her like he wanted to say something, but wouldn't. And Izzy was trying to think of something to say, but couldn't. It was all getting really awkward. It wouldn't have been awkward a few days ago but now…..fucking emotional epiphanies. They ruined everything. But Izzy wasn't going to let something as mundane as feelings ruin whatever she and Nathan were. He was the closest thing she had to a real, proper friend.

"So," he said suddenly, "do you want to steal some booze?"

"Always."

Nathan let out a light laugh and pulled himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help her out as well. "Well, come on then."

The two of them scampered down the stairs of the balcony to the kitchen, with Izzy humming the 'Mission Impossible' theme song the whole way. This was good. It was the same as before, so it was good. Maybe she was as fucked by this new development as she had thought.

"I should really have my own keys cut for the bar," he said in an incredibly self-satisfied tone.

All of the sudden there was the sound of a door opening and the two of them dropped to the ground behind the desk. Nathan's arm wrapped around Izzy's shoulders, pulling her further down and closer in to him as well. Izzy was so preoccupied with what she was seeing, she barely registered the fact that his arm stayed there.

"Holy shit," she mumbled. People with bags on their heads were being fog-marched into the community center and forced down on their knees like they were about to be executed. Nathan's arm tightened around her shoulders.

"Is it just me," he whispered into her ear, "or does this look really suspicious?"

Izzy listened to the voices of the people being dragged in. "Fuck!" she hissed. "That's Curtis!" Then Alisha walked in with that brunette, who had an unnervingly pleased look on her face. "It's her," Izzy growled in a low voice. "It's that virtue bitch. She's doing this to them. Turning them into Jesus groupies or something."

The freaks pulled the bags off the heads of their victims, and there was Curtis. It looked like someone had hit him pretty hard in the face. You'd think the Virtue Virgins would be anti-violence, but apparently they were down on the recruiting quotas. They were taking people be force. Izzy felt her blood boil with rage. Who the fuck did that bitch think she was. Izzy made a move for the door—she was going to spread the pain—but before she reached the handle, Nathan's hand encircled her wrist.

"No, no, no," he pleaded. "There's too many of 'em. And I'm not very good at fighting. I never have been."

"Well that's fine," Izzy said shortly, "because I am."

Nathan just tightened his grip on her arm. "Just hold off on the rage, yeah? We need a plan. We can get weird kid here and he can do some tactical shit, but right now let's just live to fight another day, alright?"

Izzy ground her teeth together and peered out the window. He was right. There were too many. She nodded and moved back to rejoin him behind the desk, and at some point his arm made it back around her shoulders. They watched as the brunette spoke, and then Curtis and the others stood up calmly and…..hugged her? What the fuck?

Izzy glanced back at Nathan who turned to her with a severely traumatized look on his face. "Did she just….virginize him?"

She stared back into those wide, unblinking eyes. "This is very, very not good."

**There you go! I hope you guys liked it. This is the beginning of the emotional conflict of Izzy. I hope it came across well. At this point she wants things to stay the same more than anything. I hope I gave more insight into why she's so emotionally closed off in that introductory bit. Just because she knows she likes Nathan doesn't mean they're about to run off and elope or something! More drama, laughs, and awkward situations will ensue!**

**Please review! Reviews are love and inspire me to write. I would also love to know if you take issue with something or don't like where the story is headed. I want to make the best possible version f the story, and you guys can help me do that! I would also love to make 130 reviews. I would be over the moon.  
**


	19. Rescue Mission

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, incitanemxx, Adela, Sinead, witchbaby300, and Becca for reviewing. I really appreciate it.**

**Oh, and Adela, never apologize for long reviews. The fact that you're invested enough to write that much leaves me kind of giddy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

**Also, I posted photos of Allan and Izzy's mom on my profile. Copy/paste the links.**

Chapter 19 – Rescue Mission

"You're drooling on my sofa."

Izzy got no response. Not that she was actually expecting one to begin with. She sighed heavily and clutched at her cup of tea, letting the warmth of it seep into her hands as she stood over Nathan's sleeping figure. As usual, his mouth was hanging open—what she thought was a side effect of him talking so much—and his curly hair was sticking out every which-way. It was almost a shame to wake him, but they had shit to deal with. She had woken up at about five in the morning, running over possible scenarios in her head. It was that brunette—she knew it was the brunette—but how was she doing it? It had to be a power thing, but how did it work? It looked like all the girl had to do was talk to them, and all the sudden there was another pastel-wearing robot. How could it be stopped? How could it be reversed?

"Oi, Nathan," she said, prodding at him with the toe of her shoe. "We've got to get going. Rescue Curtis and Alisha and all that."

He just smacked his lips together and waved his hand in her direction like he was trying to swat away a fly. "Five more minutes, mum," he said, yawning heavily and snuggling further into the spare blanket she had given him. "Just call the school and tell them they can go fuck themselves. Or that I'm sick. You know, whichever."

Izzy rubbed at her forehead in frustration. How had she ended up in this position again? She couldn't very well let Nathan stay at the community center while those Virtue Virgins were running amok, so once again he had ended up at her place, sleeping on the sofa. At least this time she wasn't there next to him. He had, of course, brought the vodka from the community center and helped himself to quite a few of her beers, and for the first time she had seen a truly pissed drunk Nathan. It would have been funny if he wasn't so damned destructive. He had dropped at least two of her plates on the ground, sending shards flying everywhere, and more than a few books were lying on the floor as he had pulled them out, read the titles, told her she was a nerd, and then tossed them over his shoulder, all the while spouting off strategies and theories that got increasingly ridiculous as he got drunker. It was like looking after a three-year-old Allan, only this time the rogue infant could reach the top shelf. Eventually, as with any child on sugar rush, he passed out face down on the couch in a ridiculously contorted. So she had covered him with a blanket. It was all so fucking cliché—at least she hadn't kissed him on the cheek or some shit like that. Well not a total cliché. One of his hands—the one hanging off the side of the sofa—was filled with whipped cream.

For once, though, Izzy had opted not to drink—that clear liquid in her glass was just some water. She didn't even bother to stop Nathan as he started rampaging through her flat. In hindsight, she probably should've been paying more attention, but her eyes were glued to the screen of her computer, looking up anything and everything to do with that cult-thing and the brunette, who's name was apparently Rachel. What she found was truly disturbing. There was a whole freaking manifesto about saving yourself and how dressing affects people's perception of you. In Izzy's opinion, it just sounded like the ramblings of an insecure little girl who had been teased by the popular clique. Normally she would have been sympathetic, but brainwashing? In her opinion that was two steps away from fascist dictator.

Izzy turned from Nathan and moved into the kitchen area, grabbing one of the cloudy, etched glasses from the shelves and switching on the tap, listening to the loud thunking of the pipes before the water spurted out violently. She filled up the glass and walked over to Nathan, upending the glass over his head.

Nathan jolted into consciousness, spluttering and waving his hands around wildly. He went to wipe away the water, and Izzy couldn't help but smirk at the beautiful squelching noise as he got a face full of whipped cream. He let out a strangled yelp. "You've got to stop doin' that. An' why the fuck do I smell like pie?" He moved to sit up and groaned, moving a hand to his head. Izzy picked up her tea and went to sit at the flimsy card table, taking a long sip of her tea and smirking at them. Nathan turned to look at her, squinting despite the dim lighting. "Mmph. What the hell, Ginger?"

Izzy sat back in her chair and gave him a patronizing look. "You broke house rules."

"What?" he demanded, suddenly seeming much more awake. "You mean you and me, we—" And then he made some inappropriate hand gestures.

Izzy snorted loudly. "You wish. No, you decided to play strip poker against yourself, lost, took off your trousers and started running around the flat singing 'I am a sexy monkey' at the top of your lungs." A normal person would probably have been ashamed or at least embarrassed, but Nathan seemed downright proud of himself. Izzy brought her mug to her face to hide the smile forming at the corner of her lips. When she had fully composed herself, she placed the mug back on the table. "I have to say, I didn't expect tighy-wighties."

His smirk widened and he sat up straight, stretching heavily. "Well it's only fair," he said through a loud groan, "I saw yours."

Izzy rolled her eyes and threw a towel and his trousers so they hit him in the face. "Go take a fucking shower, Nathan. You smell like the floor of a cab." Grumbling loudly, he grabbed his things and moved to the door. "Hurry it up, will you?" she shouted over her shoulder. "You might not remember everything from that liquor-induced haze of yours, but I'm sure you recall the whole brain-washing thing."

Nathan scrunched up his face in an expression of disgust, before grabbing hold of his things and moving towards the bathroom. "Ugh. It's way too early and I am way too hungover for this shit."

Izzy cracked an egg into the pan and listened to it sizzle. "You've got nobody to blame for that but yourself," she said in a singsong voice. "Now hurry up. I'm making fried eggs on toast, bacon, and coffee with a side of Advil. Best hangover cure in the world."

It took about a half hour for the two of them to leave her flat. By the time that they got to the community center, Kelly and Simon were already there, peering around one of the corners and watching as the Virtue Virgins stood around a bonfire, burning all the illicit substances from their previous less-than-saint-like lives.

"What a fucking waste," Izzy mumbled as some bloke with a sweater tied around his shoulders through a bag of spliff into the fire.

Kelly and Simon both jumped, at their sudden notice of their arrival. Simon looked between the two of them with wide, slightly scared eyes. "Have you seen Curtis?" he asked in an anxious voice.

"They got him last night in the community center," Nathan whispered quietly. "It was some spooky shit. I think I'm sufferin' from post-traumatic stress or somethin' like that."

"You're suffering from post-vodka stress," Izzy mumbled, staring at the crowd. Some girl was waving a dildo around like it was fucking Excaliber and smiling blankly as the rest of them cheered her on. They all had the same voice, the same intonation. It gave Izzy the shivers.

"It's 'er," Kelly said, gesturing at that Rachel girl who was off chatting with some camera crews in the distance. "She's doin' dis to 'em."

"Yeah," Izzy said, nodding her head in agreement. "I did some research—that organization of hers went active about a week ago, and a few days later those twats start showing up? It can't be a coincidence."

Then the girl turned away from the TV crew to look in their general direction. The lot of them jumped and scurried back into the community center. "We should check for da probation worka," Kelly said suddenly. "Tell 'er about wot 'appened last night." They made there way to the lobby only to find a very dark, very empty office.

"Uh, where is she?" Kelly demanded angrily.

"There's never a probation worker around when you need one!" h shouted angrily, waving his arms about. Then he turned to Simon with a suspicious sort of expression on his face. "You were sucking up to her last week," he said, jabbing an angry finger in Simon's direction. "Where is she?"

Simon started shifting on his feet and smoothing down his hair like he did when he was stressed or nervous or lying. Izzy clenched her hand into a tight fist. There was definitely something going on with him, and she was going to figure it out. But, lucky for him, right now they had other priorities.

"I don't know where she is," he said quietly.

"I thought you said she was on holiday in Greece," Izzy returned narrowing her eyes at him.

"We need ta tell someone what she's doin'!" Kelly shouted.

"Oh, yeah, right," Nathan said through a scoff, his voice dripping in sarcasm. " 'Help! Everybody has stopped takin' drugs and urinatin' in the street!' Who are we gonna tell, hm? This is every policeman and parent's wet dream!"

Izzy gnawed on her fingernails, trying to think. "He's got a point. And who's going to believe us anyway? I mean, mind control? It still sounds a little crazy to me and I'm standing in a room with a bloke who can turn invisible, a girl who can read minds, and whatever kind of alien spawn he is," she said, jerking her thumb in Nathan's direction. "It's not like we can really fill out a formal complaint, is it?"

Kelly huffed in frustration and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well if ya've got any ideas?"

Nathan sighed heavily and turned to Simon. "Come on, Barry. You're good at this stuff. Think of something."

Izzy choked, Kelly's jaw dropped, and Simon squared his shoulders, standing toe-to-toe with Nathan. "Who's Barry?" he demanded in an angry tone.

An expression of confusion crossed his face as he looked between her and Kelly for confirmation. "Well, you are."

Izzy rubbed at her eyes with her hands. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

" 'Is name is Simon!" Kelly shouted angrily.

A look of genuine surprise crossed Nathan's face. "Is it?" he asked stupidly. "I thought it was Barry." He patted Simon on the shoulder in an incredibly condescending way. "Sorry, man."

Izzy could feel the hurt and pain and anger rolling off Simon in waves. Calling him names was bad enough, but not even bothering to learn his actual name…that was another matter entirely. She was irritated enough by Nathan not using her name ever—to the point where she doubted he knew it either—but she had thicker skin than Simon. Hell, she had armor. Simon on the other hand, he had always seemed kind of vulnerable, but lately it was like the scales had been tipped. She had approached him about it once or twice, trying to see if he was okay—but he just clammed up more than usual and ran away as quickly as possible. She felt like he was going to snap. And soon. It wouldn't be pretty.

"Wiv Curtis an' Alisha gone it's down to os!" Kelly burst out suddenly, making everybody turn to look at her. "Noone else is goin' ta do shit!"

Izzy bit her lip and nodded in agreement. Right now Simon wasn't the priority, but she'd come around to him soon enough. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw some movement. Alisha was walking by in those same bland clothes with that same blank expression on her face. "Oi," she whispered harshly, "we have incoming."

The lot of them ducked down and scuttled towards the wall, peaking carefully around the corner at her retreating figure. Everything about it was so very wrong. There was no sway of the hips or attitude of any kind. Again, the surprising thought that she actually missed Alisha entered her head.

"We ta get 'er away from 'ere," Kelly muttered again. "We need ta find out wot they've done ta 'er."

"We already know that," Izzy whispered back. "It's mind control. That girl Rachel—last night she just talked to Curtis and the others, and all the sudden they turned into those freaky, polite zombies. The question is how do we turn her back."

"Eitha way we need ta get 'er."

"What about her power?" Simon piped in. "We can't touch her."

"And what if that virtue bitch shows up," Nathan added. "She's vexin' them with some kind of Darren Brown voodoo mind shit." Izzy mind was sent flying about, searching for possible solutions, but before she opened her mouth to say anything, a look of realization dawned over Nathan's face, followed by a small smirk. "We need to gear up."

With that cryptic phrase, he immediately ran down the hall, forcing the others to scurry after him. "Gear up?" Izzy hissed when she caught up to him. "You're not James Bond, Nathan. Stop trying to make it sound all dramatic."

"Maybe it is incredibly dramatic," he said, wagging a finger at her. "And what the hell are you talkin' about, Ginger? I am totally James Bond. And you—you can be my Miss Moneypenny." He smirked and nudged her in the side with his elbow.

"The plan is marigolds and earphones," Izzy said, scoffing heavily, kicking her foot absently. "I am _not _Miss Moneypenny. If I'm anybody, then I'm M. And you are not James Bond. Far too hyperactive to be a stone-cold killer."

"So you're sayin' that Weird Kid's James Bond?" he asked curling his lip slightly and letting out a derisive snort.

Izzy glanced over her shoulder at Simon who seemed to have shrunk a little. She shot him a quick half-smile before turning back to Nathan. "He's Q, obviously," she said shortly. "Clever with a penchant towards electronics—he's definitely Q." She glanced back again and was happy to see a small smile forming on Simon's forlorn face.  
And if anybody's James Bond," she continued, "it's Kelly. She's the only one of us who's actually gotten into a fight."

"Now hold on a second!" he shouted, stopping short and causing them all to run straight into his back, swearing heavily. "All of you lot get to be someone. Who am I?"

"We don' 'ave time for dis bullshit!" Kelly growled at him.

"No, come on man," he said again. "Who am I?"

Izzy sighed and patted him on the shoulder before brushing past him along with Simon and Kelly. "You can be Miss Moneypenny," she shouted over her shoulder as they made their way to the storage closet.

They had gotten about half way down the hallway when she heard him grumble, "I am not Miss Moneypenny!"

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

She looked ridiculous. She looked absolutely ridiculous. Then again, they all did, lined up like a couple of badasses who were ready to clean out the kitchen or some shit like that in those idiotic yellow rubber gloves. Izzy toggled through her music until she settled on a song that seemed to fit the occasion: 'Invaders Must Die' by the Prodigy. She slammed her thumb and turned up the volume so the music was blasting in her ears. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Nathan peering over her shoulder, so she yanked out one of the earphones and turned to him. "Is there something I can help you with, Nathan?"

"Nah, man," he said turning back to his own player. He stared at it intently, moving through an impossibly long list of songs.

""Uh, wot are ya doin'?" Kelly demanded in a frustrated voice.

"You've got to have the right kind of track for this kind of thing," he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You need somethin' up tempo with a bit of edge. I'm thinkin' Jay-Z. Maybe a bit of Dizzy. We could be gettin' into a whole race thing!"

Kelly rolled her eyes heavily. "Just pick one for fock's sake!"

"Whoa there," he said, holding a hand up. "Hold on. Oh, yes. There's the baby."

Izzy couldn't help but peaking at the iPod and saw he had settled on 'Smack My Bitch Up' also by the Prodigy. "Seriously?" she demanded, smacking him in the chest. "You're hijacking my musical selection?"

He just blew her a kiss and strode forward, a stoic expression on his face. Izzy rolled her eyes and fell in line behind him. They all did. The visual of it would make a good movie poster or something, except for the fact that any still photo would show her expression of simultaneous frustration and amusement as she glared at Nathan. Izzy knew what he was doing. He was trying to be James Bond.

The lot of them crept around the community center until they caught sight of Alisha walking around a corner. They immediately entered 'stealth mode'. Which didn't prevent Nathan from running straight into a wall, of course. They peeked around the corner and saw her make her way into a nearby storage closet.

Kelly tapped on each of their shoulders, making them remove an earphone. "We'll take 'er out through da fire escape," she whispered. "You two—" she gestured at Simon and Nathan "—go 'round da back, check dat nobody's dere. Don' screw op!"

"I won't!" Nathan exclaimed in a huffy voice.

"Seriously," Izzy added, jabbing him in the shoulder, "don't."

"Jesus!" he muttered, rolling his eyes heavily. "I already said I won't. Why aren't you pickin' on Barry?"

Izzy sighed heavily and shoved her earphones back in. "Alright, McCallum," she whispered to herself, shaking out her arms and legs to work out the anxiety. "Time to accomplish something."

Simon and Nathan turned and went around the back way while she and Kelly followed Alisha, taking light, careful steps. When they got to the door, Kelly raised her eyebrows and jerked her head to the door, silently asking Izzy if she was ready. In response she just pressed her lips together in a thin, determined line and gave a single nod. The two of them quietly moved into the room—at least she thought it was quiet, the earphones really prevented her from being able to tell. Kelly locked the door and turned to Alisha, trying to talk her into coming with them. Alisha responded, presumably in the negative, but seeing as she didn't know how to read lips, Izzy couldn't quite understand what the fuck was going on. Okay. Maybe they hadn't really thought this through all that well.

Two shadowed figures appeared outside the frosted glass of the door to the exterior, and she could vaguely hear the echoes of their banging on the surface. Nathan and Simon. Izzy rushed to those doors and tried to pull them open. It was about five panicked yanks at the handles before she realized that they were chained shut. A steady stream of curses flew out of Izzy's mouth. This was not going to end well. Kelly had grabbed hold of Alisha and was attempting to drag her away, and everything seemed to be falling apart. Izzy ran to the front door to try and get Alisha out through the hallway, but as soon as she opened up, she found herself face-to-face with a very surprised, pastel-wearing Curtis. Both of them seemed to freeze in shock for a moment and Izzy opened and closed her mouth, gaping like a fish out of water. She lifted up her arm and gave a slow wave. "These are not the droids you're looking for."

It didn't seem to work though. Curtis made a violent move towards her and Izzy felt that almost-forgotten sensation of pressure building up beneath her skin. Curtis was sent flying backwards into the wall behind him, his back connecting with the concrete in a sickening crunch. A tiny sigh of relief escaped past Izzy's lips until she a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye suddenly became a fucking battalion of preppy Cylons sprinting in her direction.

"Leave her, Kelly!" she shouted at the top of her lungs and grabbing at the other girls arms. "There are too many of them, we've got to get out of here!"

She could still see Nathan banging on the other side of the door and vaguely heard the phrase, "I'm not leavin' her!"

Izzy grabbed hold of Kelly and pulled her out of the room after her, but before the two of them could get out of the room, Alisha was on her feet and pulled Kelly to the ground. Izzy tried to free Kelly from Alisha's grasp, but soon enough Kelly stopped struggling and blinked, that deadened look forming in her eyes. Oh, shit. In the struggle, Kelly's earphones had fallen out. Izzy turned around to see that girl Rachel standing in the doorframe with an unbearable, self-righteous smirk on her face. Izzy looked down at the girl she had considered a friend and felt her stomach drop. Kelly wasn't home anymore.

And so Izzy ran. She pushed violently past Curtis and that 'virtue bitch', and she ran down that hallway. That pressure under her skin was constant now. It wasn't like she was exploding outwards, it was like she was holding everyone at bay. One of the virtue virgins appeared out of nowhere around a corner and ran at her, but when the bloke got near it was like he was running into a brick wall. He couldn't get close. She ran so fast all she could hear was her gasping breaths and the loud slapping of her feet against the laminate. She could hear…oh, shit. She could hear. Somewhere in this fucking mess she had lost earphones. And what's worse, when she turned the corner to get towards the exit, there was an entire fucking wall of them standing there. She ducked into a nearby storage room and locked the door bend her. Panting and trying to catch her breath, she drove her hands into her hair and pulled at it, letting the pain snap her back to attention. What could she do? What could she do? That's when she heard it.

There was a loud banging noise from the other side of the room, behind a stack of cardboard boxes. "Ginger?" a slightly panicked, disembodied voice shouted. "Ginger, you in there?"

"Nathan? Nathan, they've got Kelly! She's gone!"

Izzy ripped away the boxes and found the window behind them, Nathan and Simon's shadows on the other side. Curling her fingers under the ridges of wood, she tried to pull it open, but she couldn't. It was painted shut.

"Come on, Ginger," Nathan's voice shouted from the other side. "It's not like we've got a lot of time here!"

"We've got to go," Simon whispered harshly.

"We're not leavin' her!" Nathan spat back.

Then there was a loud banging noise at the door to the storage room. They were about to get in. Izzy bit her lip until it bled a little. She was done for. Sure she could keep them away from her physically, but there was no way she could shut off her ears. And that Rachel girl would be there soon enough.

"Just go," she shouted back at them. "The window's painted shut, but I've got a pocket knife on me. I'll be out faster than you can say 'where's she got to now?' Seriously, go."

There was the sound of a mild scuffle and a few more protestations outside the window, but soon the two silhouettes disappeared. Izzy let out a long slow breath and waited for the inevitable. Nathan would fix it. She didn't know why she was so sure of it—the bloke could barely tie his own shoes—but she was sure. She would be okay. And even if she wasn't it's not like she would be upset about it anyway. She would be happy as a clam. A creep, creepy argyle-wearing clam.

Then the door was knocked down with a loud bang, revealing that terrible pink cardigan. Izzy folded her arms across her chest and stared evenly at the girl. She saw the words being formed on the girl's lips, but the sound that came out was strangely disjointed. It was hazy and kind of beautiful, in a sinister kind of way.

"You don't like to behave like this. You could do so much better."

**Hopefully that was okay. I hope you liked the way Izzy was 'virginized' or whatever. I just really wanted her to be glaring at the Rachel girl when it happened.**

**So I've thought a lot about the next chapter, and I think I'm going to model it after 'Immaturity At Its Finest' by Persephone Price and attempt a chapter from Nathan's POV.**

**Please review! I hope this chapter came out well enough. And sorry about the delay. Mardi Gras in New Orleans has a way of distracting you!**


	20. Interlude

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, incitanemxx, Adela, Lady Shagging Godiva, BakerTennant'sTardis, witchbaby300, LittleGee, and Becca for reviewing. I really appreciate it.**

**So this was my attempt at a Nathan POV. I hope it came out alright and in character and everything. Usually Nathan would be more happy-go-lucky and everything, but as incitanemxx said, shit is getting serious now. I hope you liked it and would love to know what you think.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

**Also, I posted photos of Allan and Izzy's mom on my profile. Copy/paste the links.**

Chapter 20 – Interlude

This was very, very not good.

He was alone, he was in the dark, and there were virtue virgins running all over the place like there was some sort of fucking purity plague. All the 'pleases' and the 'thank yous' and the apologizing for shit, and the fucking cardigans—it wasn't normal. They were young. They were supposed to drink too much, take pills, and puke in the street. That was the sodding human condition wasn't it? Fuck up and then grow up. Luckily for him, the second part of the equation was a long way off. Or at least it was supposed to be. But the shit was hitting the fan, wasn't it? And it felt like he was going to get a face full of it.

What the fuck was he supposed to do? He was running around in the dark, while marauding bands of those virgins were kidnapping people. And he was in a dingy old car park. The entire situation had 'horror film' written all over it—some prick in a long coat was going to pop up around some corner and murder him. This whole thing was completely mental and he didn't know what to do. First that little twat Barry abandoned him, then another twat rescues him on a bicycle, starts doing some BMX shit, and just chucks him on the side of the road, and now he was hiding from those other twats like he was in some zombie video game or something. There were far too many twats roaming around the Estate. And he couldn't go back to the community center. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. He was homeless. Again.

Curtis, Alisha, and Kelly were gone. Barry was a right little prick. Ginger. She was going to be okay. She was scrappy—she would get herself out of that mess. She carried a pocket knife on her for fuck's sake—which he found oddly hot. Like she was some sort of badass Angelina Jolie or something. Hot. Okay, time to focus. Ginger would know what to do. She usually did, and it was annoying as hell, but at least now he could take advantage of that. And he could crash in her flat again. He didn't know why she kept letting him do that—nobody else had been willing to—but he wasn't about to complain. Especially since she wore those sexy little shorts and tank top to sleep in. And she had said her flat didn't have a good view…..

Focus. There was far too much going on right now to be thinking about Ginger's cute little arse. He could do that later. Scratch that, he would do that later. And now he was thinking about it again, that time she had had to reach up to the very top shelf of the cabinets, giving him quite a good look at her rear and—focus, goddamnit! Nathan fumbled about in his pockets until his fingers finally found their way around his mobile. He flipped through the contacts until he found the one labeled 'Do Not Call Unless Bleeding In A Ditch' and quickly hit the send button.

Why the fuck wasn't she answering?

"Come on, come on, come on," he whispered quietly, walking quickly and head twitching back and forth, keeping an eye out for any more of those freaks. But it just kept ringing until there was that annoying beep. Voicemail. Soon enough Ginger's voice started on the other end. "_Hello, this is Izzy McCallum with today's inspirational voice message_," that familiar, sarcastic tone said into his ear. "_'The future belongs to those that believe in the beauty of their dreams.' Eleanor Roosevelt said that. It's probably a load of crap, but it's a nice thought, so ruminate on it for a bit. Leave a message_." And then there was that fucking beep. Ugh.

"Ginger?" Nathan whispered harshly. "It's me. Where are you? Pick up your damn phone! I'm losin' it here, I'm freakin' out!" At that moment a group of sweater-monkeys ambled by making him sprint behind the nearest column. "Call me, yeah?"

He shoved the phone back in his pockets and peeked around the corner. Some bloke was grafitti-ing the wall and a couple of those freaks grabbed him and dragged him off. Shit, fuck, son of a bitch. How could a group of people that looked like such pussies be so fucking violent? He had to get the hell out of there, and now. He was far, far too pretty to be dragged into a life of abstinence. _Abstinence_ for fuck's sake. A face like his would go to waste if it was forced into something like that. How could he deny the world Nathan Young? It would be a bloody travesty.

There was only one place he could really go. Sure it was a terrible neighborhood and he might get mugged or shot or some shit like that, but he would rather be shot than start wearing cardigans. And he should probably check in on Ginger anyway. She was probably fine—she was always fine—but he was worried. Since when did he get worried? He never really had anybody to be worried about before, and if there was anybody for him to be worried about, it was her. She was the only one who ever seemed to worry about him. This was weird, the whole worrying about people bullshit. Since when was he such a pussy? It's not like he fancied her or anything—she was a mate, a friend. A friend that he wouldn't mind going a few rounds with between the sheets with, but still, a friend. Fuck it. He had to go somewhere, it might as well be her flat. That didn't explain why he felt so nervous, though.

When he finally made it to the front door of that shithole of a building, he slammed his finger on the buzzer over and over again, but there wasn't any response. He should probably just leave, but the lights in her flat were on. Maybe she was in some kind of trouble. Nathan groaned heavily and moved around the side of the building until he reached the fire escape and clambered his way up in an incredibly manly and not-at-all uncoordinated display. After making it up those six flights of those crappy old rusted steps, he reached the window to her flat. The lights were on but nobody seemed to be inside. Nathan pulled his sleeve up over his hand and wiped at the dust and dirt before pressing his face against the glass and staring inside. When would shit stop getting weird? There was a giant trash bag on Ginger's bed and clothes were spilling out of it.

"What the f—?"

He grappled with the window before yanking it open. He tried to climb in, but somehow his foot got caught on the sill in fell into a heap on the floor with a loud crash. "Shit, shit, shit." He managed to scramble back up to his feet, and spun around the flat looking for her. She wasn't there. At least she hadn't seen that. He wandered over to the bags resting on her bed and grabbed hold of what was inside. Raising his hand he pulled out what a bra and pair of ratty old jeans. It was a damn shame she wore bras like that—sports bras. She had the goods, so why did she strap them down instead of pushing them up? It didn't make any fucking sense. Still, though. She managed to look fit enough without bothering to try. That was an achievement all on its own, wasn't it? And now he was thinking about her tits again.

"Nathan?"

Fuck. Ginger had caught him fondling her sad excuse for lingerie. She was definitely going to kick his arse for this one. He turned around slowly with a sheepish smile on his face attempting to hide the bra behind his back, but as soon as he saw her the look dropped off his face entirely and the bra dropped to the floor. "Oh, no."

They had gotten Izzy as well. He had been so sure that she would be okay, but here he was, in a turtleneck and a cardigan and a skirt that was so dumpy his mum wouldn't even wear it. She was wearing _pink_ for fuck's sake. Izzy would never wear pink. She had probably never worn pink in her entire fucking life. Her hair was brushed back into a neat little bun, not crazy and wild like it usually was….it was all just so wrong. But the worst bit about it was the eyes. They were all wide and innocent, like a scared baby. She should be glaring at him, rolling her eyes, raising that one eyebrow like she always did when she called him an idiot. But no, he was looking at Bambi. A deranged Bambi.

"Nathan, why are you in my bedroom?" she asked in a confused, annoyingly sweet voice. She should be swearing at him, asking him what the fuck he was doing there.

"Well, technically the whole flat is one room," he spluttered quickly, "so I could argue that I'm in the kitchen right now." She just cocked her head to the side and stared at him blankly. "What did they do to you, Izzy? What's with all you throwin' out all your clothes?"

She turned to the mirror and smoothed out the already perfectly ironed fabric of her clothes. "If you dress like trash, people treat you like trash," she said dully.

"But you don't give a shit about what people think," he said. "That's the beauty of it! You do whatever you want and fuck everybody else! And I don't see how you dressing like someone's blind gran is exactly goin' to help you out in this scenario."

He took a step towards her. She took a quick step back away from him and then turned back to the mirror, fixing her hair. "I think I look nice."

"Okay, fine," Nathan muttered through a groan of frustration. "I guess you could argue it's a huge improvement. I get that. You don't look like you've been rollin' around in motor oil and your hair looks like it's actually been brushed for a change. But it's not you."

"That's a good thing," she said earnestly. "I was ruining my own life with the drugs and the drinking and the anti-social behavior. I had so much going for me and I threw it all away. It's no wonder they took my little brother away from me. They were right to do that."

"You have a brother?"

Nathan had totally forgotten that she had a brother. He was always bad with names and details and all that shit. He waited for her to hit him or throw something at him. Hell, he wanted her to hit him. But she didn't. Instead she smiled a fake-looking smile and walked back to the bookcase where those photos that she had shooed him away from before and handed one to him.

"I was a terrible role model for him. Did you know I swore in front of him? It's a good thing they separated us. He's better off."

"Oh, come on," Nathan said sadly. "Don't go sayin' things like that. I'm sure you were….responsible and shit."

Non-Izzy just shook her head. "I had a terrible attitude. I was so hostile and angry at everyone and everything. I alienated everybody I knew, and I was so rude. I didn't like who I was."

Nathan scoffed loudly and put his hands on his hips. He couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. "That is load of crap," he replied almost angrily. "You liked who you were. Because….because you were you, you know? There was no filter. You said what you wanted to when you wanted to. There was no bullshit with you. No regrets and all that?"

"I blamed every one else for my problems," she barreled on, not bothering to listen to him. "The foster parents, the social workers. I blamed the fact that my mum died, that I had to see all the blood and the chalk outline where she fell after that man killed her. I blamed the authorities my entire life. But it was all me. It was my fault, it was my problem. I drove people off. I didn't like myself and I'm the reason people didn't like me either. It's better now. I'm better now."

Nathan just stood there, gaping slightly. He had no fucking clue what to do here. He had enough difficulty dealing with girly stuff to begin with but this…this was on another level. He stared hard at her face. That was not Izzy. It looked like her and sounded like her, but it wasn't her and it was fucking terrible. It made him feel like shit. Her not being there made him feel like shit.

"Well I liked you." The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. Crap. Was this actually about to happen? Was he actually going to do this? He wasn't going to and then he looked at her again—that blank face. There should be a scowl there. Or a smirk. Or that little smile she got sometimes when she was trying really hard not to laugh at something inappropriate, but couldn't completely hide it. No. That was unacceptable. Nathan groaned and scratched awkwardly at his forehead. Nathan Young was going to share his feelings. Alert the fucking presses.

"I can't believe I'm goin' to say this. I liked your attitude—all the sarcasm and yellin' rude comments. I liked the way you always said what you were thinking, and fuck everybody else. I liked the ratty jeans and tank tops. I liked the way your hair was always a little bit messy, like you just rolled out of bed—it worked for me. And those baggy, flannel shirts you wear sometimes….well if we're all bein' honest I could do without those, and you could seriously do with some better bras but—but that doesn't matter right now, we can talk about that later." He paused for a moment to see if anything was sinking in, but she was still just standing there. Nathan sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes. "What I'm tryin' to say is—yes, on paper it's a complete mess. But it's not, see? Because…because well it's you. And now…you're…not…you."

"Look at you," non-Izzy said in a judgmental tone that really didn't suit her. "You haven't achieved anything in life! You're such a loser!"

"There's no need to get personal," Nathan muttered back angrily. Sure it might be true, but there was no need for non-Izzy to go and say it. Real-Izzy wouldn't say it. Sure she'd imply the hell out of it, but not in a judgmental way. Well maybe in a judgmental way, but not in a hurtful one. He really couldn't put his finger on the difference, but there was one. There definitely was one.

She took a few steps forward and put a hand on his arm. Normally it would have felt nice. Like that time she had fallen asleep in the middle of that movie and he had put his arm around her. But it was different.

"We can help you Natha—"

"I _never_ should have left you there," he said, taking a few steps forward, his voice cracking a bit. He sounded like a whiney little bastard, but he didn't really care. "I shouldn't have left you. I'm sorry. You're gone now, and I'm sorry."

He was right in front of her now, and she was looking up at him…and nothing. Fuck it. This was probably his only chance, right? He had been thinking about it long enough and maybe this would be the thing to get her to snap out of this creepy Stepford wife thing that was going on. Nathan moved a hand to the back of her neck and pulled his face down, pressing his lips gently against hers and just holding them there. He felt her hands move to his chest and she pushed him back violently, making him stumble backwards.

Yes! Hostile, borderline violent Izzy was back. He had never been this happy about being physically assaulted in his life. But when he made eye contact with her, that tiny bubble of hope popped. The bland non-Izzy was still there. "That was really inappropriate" was all she had to say before moving back to her dressers and continuing to shove her clothes in the trash bags.

There really was nothing left. There was nobody left. Nathan sighed, wordlessly getting up and going to the door. He didn't bother to look back before slamming the door shut behind him and trudging down those stairs. This was why feelings were for pussies. Never let people get to you. But it turns out he was the biggest pussy of them all, because he had known that already, and gone ahead and done it anyway. He was a fucking idiot. A complete fucking idiot because he had gone and done it anyway. Ginger—Izzy—had gotten to him, and look where that had left him. Two miles to the left of nowhere. Now he felt like he was missing something. He was used to her now, he liked having her there. She always seemed to be there to tell him off or to joke with him, and she just wasn't there any more. He missed her. He actually missed her. He actually fancied her. Well he had known that already-he had known that for a while-but it didn't seem to matter all that much until she was gone. Jesus, this was a catastrophe of tsunami-like proportions. And now there was only one thing left to do. Leave. He needed to grab his shit and go.

It didn't take him that long to shove all his stuff into a few bags—there wasn't that much of it to begin with—and make it to the bus station. He slept in that fucking plastic chair waiting all night for that bus to come. It was the fist time he really felt homeless. It was the first time he didn't have somewhere to go—someone to go see. He stood up when that bus passed by, ready to climb up the steps and then something occurred to him. He was not Miss Moneypenny. He was James fucking Bond and if there was one thing James Bond did, it was save the girl. He was going to save the girl. And the others of course, possibly the world. But for the first time, he was going to do something. If this thing kept spreading, cardigans would be everywhere, and then what would the world have come to?

He made his way back to the community center and went around the side to that empty storage room. The community center had a lot of those—pretty convenient for them. Anyway, it was time to 'suit up'. The rest of the ASBO shit heads had better be really fucking grateful, because that suit made him sweat and his balls were itching like crazy. And that tie felt like it was trying to choke him to death. Shit, he should stand straighter now. His mum had always been nagging him about his posture. How fucked up was it that she had actually had a point.

Before moving out of the locker, he plastered a giant smile on his face. Good thing to because as soon as he got out a couple of virtue virgins walked by. This thing was spreading faster than herpes in a whorehouse.

"Good morning," he said trying to mimic those blank tones. "Beautiful weather isn't it?"

They just nodded and kept walking. Bull's-eye. He was one with the twats. Wait, that probably wasn't the best way to say it. Whatever. Moving on. It was time to kick that bitch's arse.

The community center was just….Jesus, there were so many of the dorks it was somewhere between pathetic and terrifying. There was a bloke of there in a fucking tweed jacket with…holy shit the thing had elbow pads on it. And all the necklines were so high, didn't the girls have to let those things out to breathe? He was pretty sure it was a physical necessity. If it wasn't then it should be. What was the point of tits if you didn't show them off? Answer: none. Except the whole feeding babies thing, but the babies definitely didn't appreciate them enough.

He scanned the room. He needed to find that virtue bitch. First his eyes fell on non-Izzy in the far corner. Jesus fucking Christ, she was wearing another turtleneck. Where was the justice?

"Nathan!" Curtis's unnervingly cheery voice rang out, interrupting his train of thought. "I'm so glad you're with us now!"

Nathan plastered that fake smile back on and walked towards him, folding his hands together in a prim fashion. Shit, his cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. How did the little bastards keep this up? "I'm so pleased to be here," he said in a similar, cheery tone. "I was such a loser. The drugs, the sex—all that fast food. I was so miserable."

"I hear you," Curtis agreed, still smiling. "You were such an annoying idiot."

Twat.

Nathan just shrugged and smiled some more. Keep it together, man. Curtis was holding a clipboard. Wonderful. Really interesting things always come on clipboards. "What's this?" he asked gesturing at the paper.

"It's a petition," Curtis said enthusiastically. "We're campaigning against contraceptives being given out in schools. Will you sign it?"

Nathan quickly took the pen and beamed at Curtis. "There's only one thing ladies should be insertin' in themselves," he said, scribbling away, "and that's knowledge." Mega-twats. All of them. He hadn't signed his own name, of course. He wouldn't be caught dead trying to discourage casual, drunken sex in club bathrooms—that was one of those natural rights or whatever. Nope, instead he signed David Attenborough. Izzy would have laughed at that.

And then bam! There she was—that virtue bitch heading back into the restrooms. It was a shame, really. Shorten her skirt and unbutton her blouse a bit and she could be fit. What a waste. Anyways, time to get down to business. Good thing too. It felt like that fake gun was about to fall out the back of his trousers. Wouldn't that be awkward? Nathan to Curtis and widened his smile. "Please excuse me."

Once he had moved away, he shoved those earphones back in his ears, cranked up the volume of the music as loud as possible, and pulled out the gun. It really had been about to fall out. He followed her into the restroom and—Christ she was actually praying, eyes shut and everything. What the fuck? She must have heard the sound of the door closing she suddenly stood up, fear flitting across her face as she saw the gun pointed at her.

"Change them back to how they were."

She started talking and slowly gesturing at him with her hands like she was trying to reason with him. Well, jokes on her, isn't it? Because only reasonable people can reasoned with, and Nathan Young was not reasonable. He was quite proud of it, actually. Still, though. It would probably help some if he could actually hear her.

"You're voodoo won't work on me," he said, pointing at his earphones. "I can't hear a word you're sayin'. Now, whatever you did to them, undo it."

She just kept talking. This bitch really didn't get it, did she? "I can't hear you." That's four words, and not even big ones. Unless you include the contraction and then it's five—but that wasn't the point. The point was that she just kept babbling on and on even though a bloke was waving a gun in her face and telling her to shut the hell up. It was like trying to listen to someone talking while your head was underwater or like trying to listen to your mum lecture you on proper teeth cleaning habits—it was just noise. Why didn't she just get it over with already? There was a gun in her freaking face. Granted the worst it could was get her a little bit wet, but she didn't now that. "Blah, blah, blah, blah. Change them back."

Still nothing. He cocked the gun and took a step forwards. "I'm going to shoot you in the face."

More talking. Jesus, what was it with girls and talking. They always want to talk. "You think I won't do this," he said angrily, taking some more steps towards her and pressing the gun against her temple. "I will put a bullet in your skull!"

Then he heard another mumbling sound, only this time it was from behind him. He spun around to see Kelly standing at the door. Shit. The mission was blown. And what was it with the cardigans? Why were they all wearing cardigans? There had to be a wider selection of clothes for these twats to choose from.

Kelly blocked the doorway, holding a hand out to stop him and mumbling with a worried look on her face. "I'm gonna stop this!" Nathan shouted at her. "She did this to y—" The words died in his mouth as he saw what she was holding. It couldn't be. But it was. "Are you reading a university prospectus?" he asked, disgust tingeing his tone. That was it, line in the sand. "Oh, Jesus! This ends now!"

Then a look spread across Kelly's face. Oh, shit. "Kelly," he pleaded with her. "Kelly , don't!"

But it was too late. Kelly ran off screaming for help leaving him only one option really. Nathan burst out of the restroom waving his gun around at everyone like a mental case. Don't mess with the crazy ones. You never know what they're going to do. So Nathan decided to be crazy for a bit. "Everybody stay the fuck down! Or I will shoot her in the face!"

Everyone immediately ducked to the floor and scurried into their corners like mice. He quickly dragged the virtue bitch up the stairs, but then they started coming after him, the twats. Guns were supposed to be all terrifying. You don't run at the man with the gun, you run away from him. Jesus, they were actually as stupid as they looked. Eventually the two of them made it to the roof and he barricaded the thing with the benches and chairs. After that…fuck, what was he supposed to do after that? The bitch seemed to be thinking the same thing because she got a right snarky look on her face. Nathan grabbed hold of her and pulled her with him to the edge of the roof. Looking down at the pavement below, a small crowd was beginning to form, and right in the middle he could see Kelly, Alisha, Curtis, and non-Izzy. How was it that things always got fixed in movies? Rousing speeches? Alright. Time to try one of those.

"She's got you thinking this is how you're supposed to be! Well, it's not! We're young! We're supposed to drink too much. We're supposed to have bad attitudes and shag each other's brains out! We were designed to party! This is it! Yeah, so a few of us will overdose, or go mental—but Charles Darwin said you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs! That's what it's all about - breaking eggs! And by eggs, I mean, getting twatted on a cocktail of class As!" He paused and took a deep breath. Making speeches was really fucking exhausting.

"If you could just _see_ yourselves!" he continued. "It breaks my heart. You're wearing cardigans! We had it all! We fucked up bigger and better than any generation that came before us! We were so beautiful! We're screw-ups. _I'm_ a screw-up. And I plan to be a screw-up until my late twenties, maybe even my early thirties. And I will shag my own mother before I let her or anyone else take that away from me!"

Nathan could have sworn there was a swell of music by the end of the speech, but then again that could just be his iPod. It was a rush, screaming shit at the top of his lungs. The end bit was kind of an anti-climax, though. The virgins were staring up at him as stupidly as ever. Then all of the sudden somebody smacked him hard on the shoulder. It was the virtue bitch. Shit, he had forgotten about her. She was glaring at him angrily and gesturing at the gun he was holding in his hand. He lifted it up and realized there was water dripped from the barrel. Huh. In retrospect he probably should have emptied that.

And that girl, she just kept on talking so he started squirting her in the face, but somehow that only seemed to piss her off more. The honking her breasts part probably didn't help all that much either. Then she started squirming, and it was all her fault, really—the slipping part. He certainly didn't push her over the edge, that was for damn sure. But he lost his balance as well and began to topple over. Then Barry appeared out of nowhere and grabbed hold of his hand, but it wasn't enough. His hands were slippery from the water or some shit like that.

"Save me, Barry!" he shouted, hands trying to reach forward. He started to fall. There was something to be said for dying young and pretty, but Nathan had fully intended on staying pretty for much, much longer. And the last thing he would see would be Barry? How was that fair? And those were really shit last words.

The wind was whistling in his ears as he fell backwards. It wasn't fucking fair. And then it wasn't anything at all.

**So there it is. I hope I did a decent Nathan. I added in a lot of 'cardigan' references, because Nathan seemed to single them out, so…..yeah. Also, I hope you liked that he switched from 'Ginger' to 'Izzy' halfway through.**

**The next chapter is going to be pretty dark, what with the whole dying thing. But it'll get funnier again, I swear.**

**And, as always, please review.**


	21. Death March

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, witchbaby300, and Crazy Adolescence for reviewing. I really appreciate it. And I'm glad you all liked how I portrayed Nathan POV, but it's back to Izzy POV now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 21 – Death March

It was strange for Izzy, regaining consciousness in that way—kind of like that feeling waking up from a heavy night of drinking. That initial feeling of disorientation as you try to figure out what had happened There are always those questions that run through your head. Where were your keys? Your mobile? Your wallet? How had you gotten home? Why was there a pineapple sitting next to your bed? This time there was a neat little twist on the way events usually went over. Instead of being home in bed, sprawled out over her mattress with last night's makeup crusting over her eyes and that sting of dehydration plaguing her throat, she was standing in front of the community center with Kelly, Alisha, and Curtis wearing—holy shit, what was she wearing?

After taking in her own appearance, she glanced up at Curtis who was wearing a light blue jumper and khakis. "Jesus fucking Christ, Curtis," she muttered in disbelief, "you look like a complete twat."

"It's not like you've got any room to talk," he said, gesturing up and down at her ensemble.

She let out a small snort of laughter. "Yeah, I guess not. It must've been that virtue bitch. Because there is no fucking way I would voluntarily be wearing pink." Izzy rubbed at her eyes for a moment and tried to remember those last moments before she was turned into one of those polite little automatons. She was in that storage room and they were banging on the door and Nathan and Simon were banging on the window and….Izzy glanced around and saw that those two members of their group were conspicuously absent.

She craned her neck and looked around. "Have any of you seen Nathan and Si—"

But then she couldn't finish the sentence. She couldn't say anything at all—words may as well not have existed. She twisted her head around and her eyes fell on—no she couldn't even think it. She was hallucinating, she had to be, because there was no possible way that she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. That person was wearing a suit and Nathan wouldn't be caught dead in a suit. Poor choice of words. Oh, fuck, what was happening right now? She was losing it, that was what was happening. She was going insane. And that was the explanation she wanted, because morbid hallucinations were so much better than the alternative.

That delusion of denial didn't last long, though, because another girl had turned around and shrieked. And then another. And another. The screams were echoing in her ears, but Izzy still couldn't fully hear them. It was like in those war movies when an explosion goes of and then all the sound you hear is muddled. But Izzy didn't need to hear what was being said to understand what was going on. She wasn't the only one seeing it. Everybody was seeing it. Nathan was impaled on the fence, the spikes jutting cruelly out of his chest. The deep red blood was staining that white shirt and trickling down the slats of the fence, pooling on the ground and mixing with the dirty water from the most recent rain.

Kelly, Curtis, and Alisha all sprinted forwards towards him, doing all the things you were supposed to do in these sorts of situations. Check the pulse. Check for breathing. She vaguely heard Kelly calling out for an ambulance. But Izzy just stood there, rooted in place. After what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds, she took slow steps forward, pushing all the gawkers away before she made it to the front of the group. By the time she made it to the front, Kelly was crying and Alisha and Curtis were staring on in complete shock.

Izzy pushed past them as well until she was standing in front of him. It was actually Nathan. His eyes were wide open, and staring blankly into hers. He was gone. She reached up and smoothed his hair down a bit. He was gone. Izzy turned and moved back to Curtis, tugging on his sleeve like a small child trying to keep hold of their mother when moving through a crowded store.

"Go back," she said in a small, almost pathetic voice. "Please, go back. Go back and fix it. You're the only one that can fix it. So fix it for me. Make it go away."

Curtis's mouth was gaping open and his eyes were so scared. He was terrified. "I—I can't," he stammered. "I don't know how it works….I can't."

Izzy could feel the numbness of shock wearing off, and it was being replaced by something much, much worse. There was the ache of grief, the seething of anger, and so many other things swirling about in her and they were all coming together in a black hole of panic. She should be crying, shouldn't she? When things like this happen you were supposed to cry, right? Why wasn't she crying? Kelly was crying. Alisha was crying. Hell, even Curtis looked like he was about to cry, so why wasn't she? She felt Curtis's arms move around her as he pulled her towards him in some semblance of a hug, and then Alisha and Kelly both put a hand on her shoulders. It was meant to be comforting—it was meant to help—and Izzy knew that, but all she could feel was suffocation. The walls were closing in, she was being strangled.

"I have to go," Izzy muttered quickly, wrenching herself out of their arms and sprinting away. She wanted out—she needed to be out of there and fast, but those fucking shoes she was wearing kept peeling off her feet and making her stumble. Finally she burst through the doors of the community center and ran straight for the locker room. She needed to be alone. She needed to be away. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to burst from her chest, her fingers were tingling, and she couldn't breathe. It was happening again. She was having a panic attack.

The damned turtleneck was trying to choke her. She could feel the cable-knit cotton clawing at her throat, getting tighter and tighter. Reaching back over her shoulders, she pulled at the fabric until it moved over her head, messily pulling her hair out of that proper little bun and falling to the ground in front of her in a giant pool of pink, leaving her in a thin cami and that terrible skirt. A quiet scream wrenched its way from her throat and she pulled at her hair, letting the pain shoot through her scalp. Breathe. She needed to breathe.

This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't happen. It was _Nathan_. He was always supposed to be there with some stupid joke or inappropriate comment for her to roll her eyes at. Who was going to tease Barry? Shit, Simon. He was…he was Nathan. Nathan wasn't allowed to die. She started kicking the lockers violently over and over again and listened to the clanging as it reverberated against the cold tile of the room. After a few moments she collapsed backwards onto one of the benches. Lot of good that had done her. Now there was a huge dent in one of the locker doors and a sore pain radiating from her foot up her shin. And it didn't change a damn thing. He was still gone.

"Izzy," she heard a voice echoing through the hallway outside the locker room. It was cracking with emotion like hers should be. "Izzy where are ya?"

Kelly was looking for her. Of course she was. The way she had run off like that, she must look like she was a raving lunatic. Hell, she probably was with the way she was behaving. But she just couldn't deal with this right now—with people. The pressure started building under her skin as the footsteps got closer.

"Izzy?" Kelly's voice said from just outside the locker room. "Are ya in 'ere?"

Kelly's face appeared in the doorway, and she moved to walk in, but that now familiar invisible force blocked her entry. The other girl lifted her hand hesitantly and moved it forward until it was pressed against something solid. It was like there was a pane of glass between the two of them where none existed just moments ago.

"Let me in," Kelly said in a pitying tone. Pity. The sound of it made Izzy physically sick.

"Just leave it, Kelly," Izzy replied, the exhaustion evident in her voice. "I need to be alone right now. Please just go."

"I won' do dat," the other girl continued. "Ya need somebody right now. You and Nathan were friends—good friends. An' when somefin' like dis 'appens, ya need somebody."

Izzy let out a humorless laugh and shot Kelly a sad look. "I never need anybody." And then the open door between them swung shut and closed with a violent bang.

Izzy stood and moved towards the sinks on the far corner of the room and gripped the porcelain of the sink, digging into it with her fingernails and staring down the grimy drain. She didn't need anybody. That might have been true once—it was true a few weeks ago—but now….now she wasn't so sure. Three weeks with a bunch of other maladjusted youths and she had formed some sort of bizarre little family. She didn't always like them, but you never always like your family. They annoy the hell out of you and make you angry and sometimes you never want to see them again, but you're stuck with them, for better or for worse. Izzy hated it—the fact that she had gone and gotten attached to these five people—because it led to feelings like this. Nathan had been her best friend. She had enjoyed her life more with him around. And now he was gone.

Slowly Izzy raised her head and made eye contact with her own reflection, looking at her own hollow expression. For split second she saw a flash of another person staring at her, though. It wasn't that jaded, broken twenty-something she had turned into. She was looking at a little girl. Her red hair was pulled into two little pig tails, she was wearing a cheerfully pink floral dress, and she had a ratty old teddy bear with one eye wrapped in her arms. The perfect picture of a happy little girl, except for the eyes. The eyes were wide, terrified, and traumatized. Izzy was jolted back to that moment when she was seven when she had walked in on her mother's crime scene. It was happening again.

They always left her. Why did everybody always leave her? That's why it was better to have nothing. If you have nothing, then there's nothing to lose and she wouldn't be left feeling like that again. But now she was back to being that scared little seven-year-old all over again.

They decided to hold Nathan's funeral two days later. It always astounded Izzy how these things could come together so quickly. No warning, no planning, and then all the sudden there are flowers and mourners and everything. They went there together, the five remaining ASBO shitheads. None of them mentioned the small breakdown Izzy had had. They had all called her, leaving messages on her phone. She hadn't bothered even looking at the thing till the next day. She had missed twelve messages at that point, and for some reason four of them had come from Alisha. Izzy hadn't expected that, but tragedy did have a way of bringing people together. And she was fairly certain Kelly spilled the beans about everything she had been through with her mum.

So now she was standing there in that somber room with the slightly musty smell and ridiculously heavy curtains in a black dress she had borrowed from Alisha that, because of her height, was probably unacceptably short on her for an occasion like this. The knot started forming in her throat when she saw that the lid to the coffin was open. No. She couldn't do this. She was strong in other ways, but not in this one.

"I can't be in here for this," she said, looking between the rest of them. "I'll wait outside the door. Can you just—" she fumbled around in the pockets of her jacket until they found their way around Nathan's iPod. She thrust it into Kelly's hand. "—just give him that. I can't do open caskets. I—"

Without another word she walked out of those open doors and sat against the wall nearby. People slowly trickled in. There weren't a lot of them, but Nathan didn't really strike her as the type to forge a lot of long-lasting bonds. It took about twenty minutes for the service to start. It was a generic one, filled with bullshit sayings like 'he's in a better place, now'. It was quite boring actually. Nathan would be rolling in his grave if had been buried yet. Izzy let a small smile cover her face at that thought. It was so fucking inappropriate, but Nathan would have laughed at it. He was never one for appropriate anyway.

After a while the ceremony ended and that dreary music blared out loudly, and a few men moved out the door, carrying the coffin on their shoulders. Then, following them was a woman that looked very familiar. She was walking very quickly and holding a handkerchief up to her face with a man placing an arm around her shoulders. Shit, what was she doing? Before she had the good sense to stop herself, she was on her feet and chasing after the woman as she moved towards the churchyard.

"Mrs. Young!" she called out. Shit, that wasn't her name. Nathan's dad had left them. Second bad first impression.

But the woman turned around anyway and looked at her in confusion. "Do I know you?"

"Yes," Izzy said through panting breaths. "Well, no, not really. We did meet the once, but—"

"You're the girl that broke into my house," she said shortly.

Izzy cleared her throat and gave an awkward sort of wave before shoving her hands so far in her pockets of her jacket she thought they might rip through the lining. "Yeah," she said in a self-conscious tone, "yeah, that was me. Like I was going to say, we didn't meet under the best of circumstances, but—" Izzy bit her lip and fidgeted under the woman's stare. She glanced around a bit, looking for some sort of escape route, but instead she saw Kelly, Simon, Curtis, and Alisha standing a few meters off, staring at her curiously. Izzy took a deep, steadying breath and turned back to face Nathan's mum. "I know that Nathan could be a bit of a twa—that he wasn't the easiest person in the world to get along with. But I thought I should tell you that he was—he was one of my favorite people."

The expression on the woman's face softened a bit at those words. She took the handkerchief away from her face and took a few steps forward. "You're Izzy, aren't you?" she asked in a gentle voice.

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows. How could his mum know her name? Unless he had talked about her of course. But why would he go and do something like that?

"Yeah,' she said, nodding her head quickly, "that's my name."

A small smile formed on the woman's lips. "Nathan told me about you. He said that you were letting him stay in your flat while he found his own place to live."

"S—sure," Izzy stuttered, not sure of what to do about Nathan's lie. She might as well keep it going, spare the woman's feelings. "Yup, he crashed on my couch for a bit."

The woman took another step forwards and put a hand on Izzy's arm. "Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son when I didn't."

Izzy pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. Out of all the people—of all the names—he could have chosen to use in that lie, he chose her. And that long ago, too. She stared absently at those ridiculous high-heeled shoes she was wearing for a moment before looking back up at his mum, only to find that she was already walking off towards the grave. Izzy sighed and folded her arms tight across her chest, turning back to the others who were still standing there waiting for her.

"What was that about?" Curtis asked her when she reached them, gesturing in at the slightly hunched over figure.

"That was Nathan's mum," Izzy said sadly. Then another inappropriate snort escaped her. "Her and the gay, rapist werewolf she's living with."

There was a low, weak chuckle that passed like a wave through the group before they collectively shuffled in the direction of his grave. There were a few people there. Nathan's father was there as well. At least the man she thought was his father—he looked like the bloke from the bowling alley. There couldn't be all that many men that short and that scruffy outside of the set of Lord of the Rings. He looked visibly upset. Hell, he was crying. Why was it that she was the only person who couldn't seem to cry over him? She was watching dirt being poured over a coffin labeled 'In Loving Memory of Nathan Young' and…nothing. Inside she was a mess but outside there was just nothing. She wanted to cry, but she just couldn't. What did that say about her?

Eventually the rest of the mourners wandered off so that they were the only five left. "We should go celebrate," Alisha said suddenly. The rest of them looked at her suddenly, and she immediately looked flustered. "Not celebrate like 'woo I'm so happy,' just like…you know…can we just go for a drink?"

"Yeah," Izzy said, nodding in agreement. Alisha's head snapped around to look at Izzy, clearly not expecting her to agree. Izzy offered up a slight smile of reassurance. "I think that would be a good idea."

"You sure about that?" Curtis asked, eyeing her curiously.

Izzy scoffed heavily—probably a little too heavily to seem realistic. It was real. Mostly. "I mean come on," she barreled on, trying her best to seem okay. "If Nathan was here, what would he say? 'Come on, guys, what's with all the mopin' and the whinin'?" she said, mimicking his accent. " 'You're supposed drink too much and get twatted on a cocktail of class As!' I think it would be right."

There was a murmur of consent, and the rest of them started moving, but the coffin caught her eye again and it was suddenly as if she had grown roots. Kelly called out and beckoned her to follow them, but Izzy waved her off. "I'll catch up with you in a second," she shouted after them. She stared at the grave a moment longer and shook her head at him one last time. "I can't believe you bailed on me like that." She leaned down, picked up a handful of dirt, and tossed it on the grave as well. "Do me a favor and find away to show your ugly face again. I have a ton of shit to yell at you about and—and I would appreciate if I could do it face-to-face. It's the least you could do, isn't it?" Then she took off those unbearably uncomfortable heels and ran after the others, reveling in the feeling of the dewy grass hitting the bottom of her feet.

Eventually the lot of them made it to a nightclub of all places. The loud music, the flashing strobe lights, the unbearable heat of hundreds of people dancing—it was a freaking assault on her senses. The song that rang in her ears repeated the words 'I remember when I used to feel something' in her ears over and over again. How fucking ironic. But the whole scene—the loudness and craziness of it—it kept her from thinking about it. Or at least it kept her from thinking about it as much as she would be otherwise. She sat there with her beer, absent-mindedly rubbing the label off with her thumb like she always did when there was too much on her mind.

Then Simon raised his beer and said those two simple words that needed so badly to be said. "To Nathan." They all raised their drinks to meet his, smacking the glass bottle and plastic cups together in some sad gesture of solidarity and grief. Was that really all there was left? Well, whatever it was, Izzy took it, tossing her head back and guzzling the rest of the liquid left in that bottle.

Their little group must have stuck out so terribly in that crowd. All the dancing and revelry, and then there was just the five of them so depressed and dejected. And there was the bit where she was trying very hard to ignore the intense way that Simon was staring at her. She could tell he wanted to say something, but she didn't bother helping him say it. Not this time. She shouldn't have come with them. Good idea, poor fucking execution, at least on her part.

"I think I'm going to go," she said, slowly getting to her feet. "I've had enough for tonight."

"Stay for another drink," Alisha said, a concerned look crossing her face.

Izzy sighed and shook her head. "No, I think I'm good. Thanks for letting me use the dress and well—everything else I guess. I'll get it back to you on Monday. Next round's on me."

She slapped a few quid on the table and turned to leave the building. As soon as she strode out onto the street the music disappeared, but it left her ears ringing and the heat of the dance floor gave way to the cool night air. She took a deep breath and started home. It wasn't long, though, before she was put on edge again. There was the sound of footsteps hitting the pavement behind her, so she quickly swerved to the left and ducked down a side street that led to absolutely nowhere and the footsteps kept following her. The pressure started building up underneath her skin again. It was strange—like she could almost control it now. At least she could predict when it was about to happen. She gritted her teeth and forced that outward explosion before spinning around and finding a very confused Simon lying in a puddle in the middle of the street.

"Bloody hell, Simon!" she shouted angrily, running to help him up. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he mumbled quietly before taking her hand and letting her haul him to his feet.

Izzy's expression softened a bit at his obvious embarrassment. "It's nothing to be sorry about. It's just that people who sneak up on me these days tend to get concussions."

He let out an awkward half-smile and nodded his head a bit. Then he just stood there staring at her for a while.

"Is there something you wanted to say, Simon?" she asked in a tired voice.

"Did you like him?" he asked suddenly. "I mean _like_ him like him."

Izzy gritted her teeth. "Nathan was a twat." That was all she could say. It was all she could make herself say. Because if she said it out loud it would make the whole thing that much real. It would hurt that much more.

Apparently socially awkward Simon knew enough to read the subtext because he nodded again, this time in understanding. "I tried to save him," he stammered out in a guilty tone smoothing his hair down nervously. "Up on the roof, I tried. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

Izzy closed the gap between the two of them and put a comforting hand on the pasty weirdo's shoulder. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. You tried. That's all you could do. That's all anyone can do. And there's a fuckload of people out there who aren't willing to do even that."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a disk. "This is for you."

Izzy took the disk and flipped it about. There was no label or anything. "What is it?"

"Just watch it."

"I'm not going to die in seven days if I do, am I?" she asked, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

Simon just blinked and shook his head slightly. "Just watch it," he repeated quietly.

Izzy took it and continued walking before something stopped her. "Hey, Simon," she shouted at his back, making him turn around to face her. "Thanks. For whatever this is."

When she finally got back to her flat, she took off those fucking shoes and threw them clear across the room, never to be worn again. She stripped off that dress of Alisha's and hung it carefully, not bothering to put on any pajamas and just wallowing about in her bra and underwear. She decided to complete the stereotype by fishing out some ice cream and eating it straight out of the container.

She sat at the table, shoveling her ice cream into her mouth like she was going for some kind of record, until her eyes eventually traveled to that disk Simon that had given her. Eventually she gave in to the curiosity, booted up the computer, and shoved the disk in. It took a while for it to start working, but when it finally did she heard the quiet, solemn strains of 'Iron and Wine' coming out of the speakers. Damn. Simon had decent taste in music. She had been expecting something a little more angsty.

The screen stayed black for a while—long enough to make her wonder what the hell she was supposed to be looking at—and then an image flickered onto the screen. It was Curtis and Alisha lounging on the steps. Why on earth had Simon thought she would be interested in his borderline-stalkerish videos? Then something else popped on the screen as well.

"Pervert!"

All of the sudden Nathan's face appeared out of nowhere and he was grabbing at Simon's phone. "Ah! He's tryin' to kiss me! He's tryin' to kiss me!"

Izzy brought her hand to her mouth to stifle the laughter burbling out.

"Twat!"

"Pervert!"

"Melon-fucka!"

Jesus, he had spliced it all together. All those stupid things Nathan had done to try and find out what his power was. Him dunking his head in a bucket of water. Him trying to bend the metal bars of a fence. Him riding a shopping cart down the hill to see if he could phase through a wall. That time they spent the afternoon throwing shit at him to see if he could sense where it was coming from. She was in the background of most of them, taking turns between rolling her eyes and laughing her arse off. And then all the sudden her face appeared on the screen and she held up that giant water balloon she had filled with yoghurt and milk. She smiled conspiratorially at the camera and pressed a finger to her lips before throwing at his head and watching it explode magnificently. Then he chased her around screaming all sorts of obscenities. "You're gonna get a right spankin' after that, Ginger!" he had shouted at her. It was all there. It was all she had left. There wouldn't be anything else to add after that.

She was laughing so hard her sides were starting to hurt. And somewhere in that mess she started crying as well. She didn't stop crying for a very, very long time.

When the video ended, she wiped at her eyes and hit the repeat button.

**So there's chapter 21. Like I said, it got a bit dark. But then again Izzy has got some issues so….Next chapter will still be dark, but it'll lighten up near the end for obvious reasons. I hope this one came out well. I wrote it pretty much in one sitting.**

**For those of you who didn't review the last chapter, I would still really like to know what you thought of how I did the Nathan POV in case I decide to do it again.**

**Please, please, please review!**


	22. Grave Digging

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, witchbaby300, Adela, LittleGee, FoxDemonGrl, MrsSheehanRheon, and incitanemxx for reviewing.**

**Actual chapter! Yay! I've kind of been writing pathologically, haven't I? I might go back and edit this chapter, but I'm usually impatient and post as soon as I'm done writing, so here you go!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 22 – Grave Digging

"You're going to have to speak to me eventually, Miss McCallum."

Izzy ignored the carefully modulated and patient tone of the woman sitting in the chair opposite her. In their infinite wisdom, the faceless directors of the community service program or whatever the fuck it was called had seen fit to inflict grief counselors on the lot of them before their next session of community service. It wasn't enough that a member of their illustrious gang had died. Now they had to talk about his death and how it made them _feel_. In other words, this entire scenario was worse than that nightmare she had had where she was tied to a chair and forced to witness a duet by Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus with her eyes forced open 'A Clockwork Orange'-style. Do not engage the enemy. That was her rule when it came to psychologists and the like. Do not engage. If you wait long enough, they just get bored and go away, scribbling some generic shit like 'trust issues' and 'has a problem with authority'. Izzy had problems with authority? No shit. She was in community service for fuck's sake. Problems with authority were generally a prerequisite for that kind of thing. At least they brought biscuits. Like that was supposed to make the situation better.

It had been about fifteen minutes now. This one didn't use that kind of 'power play' bullshit probation worker Sally had attempted in their first meeting. This woman—Martha or Mary, something generic like that—had greeted her warmly and offered a seat on the couch. Naturally Izzy had collapsed on the thing laying on her back and draping her legs over the arm of the sofa and kicking her legs back and forth absently and staring at that mildew mark on the ceiling that looked vaguely like Elvis playing the saxophone. She was being psychoanalyzed after all, and this time by a professional. Tradition dictated that she should be lying down for the authentic experience. Maybe she could take a nap. The amount of 'progress' made in this session wasn't really contingent upon her degree of consciousness. Anyways, Izzy didn't need anybody to tell her how to grieve. She had plenty of experience with that to begin with.

"I've spoken with all your compatriots," Mary/Martha said in a proper, almost clinical tone. "I asked each of them who of the group would be most affected by the death of Mr. Young. Each of them said it would be you. Is there any reason you can think of that they would believe that?"

Those little bastards. They had tattled on her. Izzy's teeth involuntarily clenched, grinding together and forming what was no doubt a sinister grimace. So much for appearing indifferent to the whole process. She had tipped her hand, and now the cardigan-wearing brain-shrinker was going to latch her teeth in. But still, she stayed silent.

The woman, whatever her name was, was clearly beginning to get frustrated. She didn't show it much though. She was more self-possessed than the others were—more determined, more calm. She must be fairly new, fresh-faced and yet to be jaded. Out of the corner of her eye Izzy saw her cross her legs and sigh heavily, leafing through the page of that goddamn folder she had sitting on her lap. "I'm paid by the hour, Isabelle," she said in a deceptively casual tone. "The longer you remain non-compliant, the better off I am."

A bitter laugh burbled out of Izzy's throat, making the woman pause. "So they sent me the funny shrink, did they?" Izzy said, trying to suppress the humorless smile that was forming on her face. "We both know that none of you lot are paid by the hour. People like me—we're far too damaged and the government is far too cheap for that to be a legitimate business plan. Overworked, underpaid, and unappreciated. That's the motto of the social worker isn't it? I'm sure it sounds much more noble and dignified in Latin."

The woman let out a rather surprising snort and snapped the folder shut, setting it on the desk next to her. "You're a clever girl, Isabelle," the woman said, settling back in her chair. "Has anybody ever told you that?"

"You have the folder," Izzy spat back. "You tell me. It's convenient really, that you all have access to the same information. It spares you the trouble of actually bothering to talk."

"In case you haven't noticed," she shot back with a sardonic raising of the eyebrows, "I've been trying to talk to you for the past twenty minutes or so. It's rather a skewed sample of us public servants, isn't it? If you refuse to speak to us, I mean. Where outside of that folder are we supposed to be able to get to know you if you don't bother to tell us anything about yourself?"

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows and continued to stare at the ceiling. Well this was an unexpected development. This was the first time she had had an interaction with the establishment that wasn't entirely predictable in a very, very long time. She had started taking notes when she was ten, and she had yet to encounter someone capable of such poignant sarcasm. They usually cared so much or so little that they were utterly ineffectual, but this one—this one seemed different. Izzy swung her feet back over the arm of the sofa and sat up straight, leaning her elbows on her knees and folding her hands together. "Veteran or newb?"

Mary/Martha let out another light laugh and clicked her pen, like she was preparing to write something down. Another notation on the file that was Isabelle McCallum. "I'd rather talk about you."

"Well I wouldn't," Izzy said shortly. "Why did they bother sending you, anyway? What makes us suddenly worth anybody's time?"

"We're all very sorry about what happened to Nathan," she said in a gentle tone. "We're here because his death meant something."

Izzy collapsed back into the sofa cushions and let out a bitter laugh that bordered on a cackle. "You're here because Nathan's death meant something?" she asked, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle the borderline hysterics. "I'll tell you what Nathan dying meant to the proverbial 'man'. Two days off and a plate of 'I'm Sorry' biscuits. That's what one of our lives is worth. But then again he had a family. I wonder what I'd be worth if I died. An early lunch break and a package of crisps?"

The woman pressed her lips together in a thin line and shot Izzy a pitying look. "Whether or not you want to believe it, Isabelle, we're here to help."

Isabelle raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You want to help me?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Then make him not dead." The words hung in the air. Izzy could feel the now familiar ache of tears starting to prick at her eyes and the hollowness in her throat as her voice began to crack. "Make Nathan not dead. Make my mo—my mother not dead. Make Allan not gone. Can you do that for me? Is that something you can do for me?"

Blinking in shock, the woman offered up a sad smile. "You know that's not something I can do, Isabelle."

Izzy felt her jaw twitching and she ground her teeth together, trying to fight off the tears that would inevitably start falling if she let them. "Then what," she spat between clenched teeth, "is the point of you?" The woman just sighed heavily and sat back in her chair. Izzy laughed and looked back up at the saxophone-playing Elvis on the ceiling, like gravity would force the welling tears back down the tear ducts. It kind of worked, actually. "I think we're done here."

Izzy threw herself to her feet and marched to the door of the office, but before she could make it all the way, the woman's hand found its way around her wrist. "Just take my card," she said, holding out her other arm, a small piece of paper trapped between her index and middle finger. "If you ever feel you need to talk, just call that number."

Izzy stood still for a moment, looking into those big, blue, almost sincere eyes. She reached for the card and took it, giving her a small nod before striding out of the doors and towards the locker room to change. She tossed it in one of the bins in the hallway before she even got there. Mary/Martha wouldn't be getting a call, but she could at least hold on to that tiny bit of hope that Izzy would reconsider, though. Small victories and all that.

The rest of them had already changed and were off doing whatever the hell it was that they were doing, so Izzy took her time. She changed slowly, she laced her shoes up slowly, and throughout all of it she found her eyes being dragged to locker 45. Nathan's locker. She rubbed at her eyes in frustration. Why was she being such a fucking masochist? She had emptied out the locker the day after he died—taken all of his things to her flat. She had washed his Superman sheets first, of course. Who knew what kind of bacteria were growing in those after all those weeks living in the community center. She still found herself looking in that direction. "Fuck it," she muttered to herself, going over the it and jimmying the lock so it swung open, revealing the jumpsuit with the words 'Community Blowback' so proudly displayed on the back, complete with a little smiley face drawn into the 'o'.

A trail of water coursed down her cheek. She wasn't crying. She _wasn't_. It was just raining on her face. Fuck, she was inside. It had to be a leaky pipe, then—because that's sanitary. To hell with it all, she was crying. She had had so much trouble starting to cry in the first place, and now it seemed like she couldn't turn it off. Izzy reached up on the top shelf of Nathan's locker and reached around for the carton of cigarettes she knew was there, ignoring the rather large stack of porn magazines. She hadn't taken those to her flat. She really didn't see the appeal of any publications titled 'Fat Northern Bitches'. Her fingers finally encircled that crumpled carton of cardboard and she nearly sprinted out the front doors.

Once out on the front courtyard overlooking the lake, she took a deep breath and leaned against one of the pillars. It took her slightly trembling fingers about 20 times before she managed to flick the lighter on and light one of those damned cigarettes. The smell immediately started to calm her, and she just stood there, watching how the overcast, grey light glinted off the small waves. It was a good way to lose track of time.

"You aw'right?" a voice asked from behind her.

Izzy turned to see Kelly looking at her, still wearing that expression of trepidation she had had on the day Nathan died. Izzy shot her a reassuring smile and nodded. "Perfectly fine," she said casually. "Peaches and gravy."

"Wha'?"

"I'm _fine_ Kelly," she said with more resoluteness than she actually felt. Kelly gave her a skeptical look, making Izzy groan and pinch the bridge of her nose. Avoiding emotional honesty was pretty fucking difficult when one of the two people is a mind reader. "If I'm not fine now, I will be soon enough. It's how these things work. First things are terrible. Then they're a little less terrible. That keeps going on and on for a while till you just don't think about it that much anymore. It's always there, but you learn how to close that door and get on with your life. Every once and a while you'll crack the door back open again, but when you do, it's something that's over. It's a past part of your life, and suddenly you can live with it."

Kelly nodded slightly and leaned against the neighboring pillar. "You gonna 'ave that?" she asked, gesturing at the cigarette still held between Izzy's fingers. "Or is dis some more of dat hippo-whateva bollocks?"

Izzy laughed a bit and held it out for her to take. "Knock yourself out."

Kelly lifted the cigarette to her mouth and took a long drag. "So wot do ya fink of dis 'grief counselor' bollocks?"

"You already know what I think, Kelly," Izzy said, wearing a wry smile and tapping the side of her head. "You're really the only one who needs to speak whenever the two of us decide to have a heart-to-heart. Not that I bl—"

"Ah, you focka!"

Izzy's head whipped away from the water to see Kelly covering her eye and wincing in pain. And there was a paper airplane lying at her feet. What the fuck? Izzy glanced around wildly looking for the source of the thing, but there was absolutely nothing. While Kelly was still cursing, she leaned down and scooped the thing up, unfolding the paper and reading a message that made it feel like David Beckham mistook her stomach for a football. Emblazoned there in stenciled letters was the phrase: 'GO TO HIS GRAVE'.

"Wot da fock woz dat?" Kelly demanded. Izzy wordlessly held up the paper, making Kelly freeze in place and her eyes widen. "Shit."

Needless to say it was way too early in the morning and Izzy hadn't had nearly enough coffee and/or alcohol to deal with this kind of thing. And there was the small matter that she had to spend the next five hours or so picking up litter.

"It could be a trap," Simon muttered quietly once the five of them met up at the railing, waiting for probation worker Sally to show up.

"Right," Alisha said in a wearied tone. "We're here five minutes and already someone's setting a trap for us. It's too early for this bullshit."

Izzy sighed and leaned back over the railing, closing her eyes and letting the light of the sun beat down on her face. She didn't want to think about the note. She didn't want to drag things up again when she was spending all her energy trying to force them back down. "It's not a trap," she whined in a voice more annoying than she had intended. "We had nothing to do with Nathan's de—with what happened to Nathan. The only upside of getting us to go to his grave would be to have us in the same place at same time, and look at us—" She threw her arms out wide "—same place, same time. What's the endgame?"

"She's right," Curtis agreed from somewhere on her left. "It's a wind-up. Who uses a paper airplane?"

"People who have decided that spitballs are beneath them?" she suggested sarcastically.

"Well whoeva it is dere gonna get a slap," Kelly said shortly.

"I—I don't think you should slap them," Simon stuttered quietly.

Curtis snorted. "To her that's like saying hello."

Izzy shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from snickering and getting her first slap from Kelly as the girl went off on Curtis. Luckily attention was diverted from her when a tall, lanky man with mousy brown, slicked-back hair and a collared shirt with too many buttons left undone strode out the community center. Ugh. He was that special kind of thirty-something who found it necessary to reveal a certain percentage of his chest hair.

"Who are you?" Alisha demanded in that tone typical of young offenders with bad attitudes.

"I'm your new probation worker," he responded in a tone eerily similar to Alisha's.

"Well what happened to the other probation worker?" she shot back.

"Apparently she's missing or something," he replied casually. "Now, I know this is where I'm supposed to make a big speech about you paying your debt to society, and making a difference, but seriously, we've all got things we'd rather be doing." He took a step back from the group and surveyed them with an almost amused expression. "Going to see your mates," he said, nodding his head at Simon. "A little recreational drug use," he continued, eyes falling on Kelly. "Boosting some cars," he smirked at Izzy, making her glower back. Then he turned to Curtis. "Making love to your beautiful Italian girlfriend, yeah?…..I'm talking about me. Now let's just get through it and get out of here, alright?" And then he did an about-face and swaggered back into the community center. Presumably they were supposed to follow him, but they all just stood there with similar disbelieving looks on their faces.

"Well that's different," Curtis murmured through a snort.

Izzy laughed a little and nodded her head. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to the species of probation worker that just doesn't give a fuck. I guarantee you we'll be washing his car at least once."

"Whateva," Kelly said, pushing off the railing and following him in. " 'E's betta than the otha two."

When they entered the main lobby of the community center, it had been transformed into the creepiest art studio known to man. That was probably a little bit harsh to the people in the room, but let's face it, one of them was having a very animated conversation with their paint brush.

"Who are they?" Curtis asked in confusion.

"It's an art therapy class," the new probation worker replied simply.

Alisha gave him a withering look. "Uh, you mean they're mentals."

He walked up and leaned really close to her ear. "Do you want to say that a little bit louder? I don't think that weird-looking one in the back heard you." He stood up straight and rolled his eyes in a way even more skilful than Izzy herself. "Look, just try to treat them with some kind of sensitivity and respect, hm? Even that one." He pointed at a woman in the back corner who couldn't quite seem to work out how to set up her easel. "Do you think you can manage that?"

Eventually after the new guy seemed to run out of snark, he sent them to paint over the mural on the back wall. That was actually Izzy's favorite task to date. Those little kids dancing around in the mural always creeped her out. Their eyes followed you. The downside of it though was that everybody was standing near each other, and that meant that they were all talking about the one thing she didn't want to be talking about. Nathan and that fucking paper plane.

"I think we should go," Simon said in what was probably an unnecessary whisper. "We should go to the grave once we're done here."

Izzy shook her head. "What happened to the whole 'It's a trap!' theory, Admiral Ackbar?" she demanded, rolling the white paint onto the wall a little more violently than she was a few moments before. "Why are you suddenly on board with this little misadventure?"

Simon just did that thing where he doesn't answer you and just stares, like he's trying to communicate information telepathically. But then he glanced quickly over his shoulder at the 'art students' before turning back to their minimalist work. Suspicious.

"Uh…you just said that it wasn't a trap," Alisha pointed out, waving her brush in Izzy's direction. "Why are you changing your mind?

"I'm not," Izzy replied defensively. "I just don't see why we should go. It's not like it's going to change anything—it would be a waste of time. Dead is dead. It happens to everybody, it's only a matter of time. I just don't think we should dwell on it."

Curtis let out a long, low whistle. "That's fucked up, that is. Would it kill you to dress it up a bit?"

"It might."

Curtis gave her a weird look and shook his head. "Shit."

"Well, I fink we should go," Kelly said abruptly. "All of oz. I'm dead curious an' I'm not goin' alone."

Later that day the five of them found themselves standing around the grave. Izzy had never wanted to go back there, but here she was staring at the headstone marked 'In Loving Memory of Nathan Young'. Fifteen minutes they stood there—in complete silence, just waiting for something to happen. Izzy had tried to avoid it, but a small bubble of hope had blossomed in her chest that by some miracle everything would be fixed. 'Expectation leads to disappointment'. That was her fucking motto and here she was expecting something. And, of course, she was disappointed. It was like watching him being buried all over again.

"Well, this is a complete waste of time," Alisha muttered in frustration.

"What did I tell you?" Izzy said dully. "I told you there was no point."

Curtis and Alisha wandered off first. A few moments later Simon and Kelly made to follow them.

"Izzy?" Simon murmured quietly, silently asking her to go with them.

"I'll stay here a bit, thanks," she whispered back. "This is the last time I'm visiting him, so I figure I should make the most of it."

The two of them nodded and took a few steps away. Izzy was watching them leave, when all of the sudden Kelly stopped short. "Nathan?"

Izzy spine stiffened. That wasn't just some random proclamation. It sounded like Kelly was calling his name.

"He's alive!" she said urgently. "I can 'ear 'im. Nathan's alive!"

Izzy sucked in a sharp breath and gave the other girl a pained look. "Kelly, if this is—"

'Wha'? You fink I'd wind ya op? About dis?" she asked angrily. "I can fockin' 'ear 'im!"

Izzy bit her lip. She didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it. But she also couldn't live with herself without checking. She pressed her lips together in a thin, determined line. "We need shovels."

It took two hours. The getting of the shovels, the digging of the grave, the hauling of the coffin. Izzy looked at her Avengers swatch watch the moment the project started and the moment it ended, and all in all it added up to two hours. The longest two hours of her entire fucking life. With each passing moment she got a little more hopeful and with each moment she felt a little bit sicker, waiting to be disappointed. Then came the moment that Curtis pried open the coffin. The moment of truth.

And then came the disappointment. He was lying their, still and ashen. Fuck. This was why she avoided open caskets. Because the last memory you have of the person you lo—the person you _care_ about is of them in a box. Like they're being Fed-Exed to the afterlife.

"He's dead," Curtis said bluntly, gesturing at the body.

Izzy scoffed heavily. "Yeah, no shit. What did I say? I said this was going to be pointless."

"I 'eard 'im," Kelly said earnestly. "I fink 'e woz knockin' one out."

"That does sound like him," Simon commented quietly.

"Maybe you just wanted to hear him," Alisha suggested in a slightly patronizing tone. "He's gone."

"I'm tellin' ya, I 'eard 'im," Kelly said emphatically.

Izzy couldn't stand it anymore. She wanted out as soon as possible. "For fuck's sake," she groaned, "let's just get this over with." She moved towards the coffin and leaned down over him, holding her fingers out to check his pulse. As she leaned, her long, red hair brushed the tip of his nose. And then she saw it twitch in response. Izzy jolted into the upright position. "What the f—"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

All of the sudden Nathan sprang up in the sitting position like he was Frankenstein's monster in one of those cheesy, old school movies here everybody's overacting. All of them let out surprised shrieks and stumbled backwards a few steps. Izzy barely avoided landing on her arse.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Curtis shouted at the top of his lungs.

Holy shit. Holy motherfucking shit. Nathan was alive. He was really, properly alive, sitting in front of her and _laughing_. If the others weren't as freaked out as she was, she would have thought she was hallucinating again. She probably looked like an idiot, standing there with her mouth gaping open. But she didn't care. He was alive. And he had pretended to be dead for the sake of some morbid prank? Twat.

"You should see the looks on all of your faces!" he cackled, climbing out of the coffin. "Classic! Hey, guess what? I'm immortal! Can you believe this shit?" He stood up straight and stretched, sending all of his vertebrae snapping back in the right position. Then he glanced over at Izzy and winked. For some reason that really pissed her off. "I told you I had a power," he continued, taking advantage of their shocked silence. "It looks like they saved the best for last. Immortality, that's off the A-list."

Izzy let out a passive-aggressive laugh and nodded, taking a step towards him and removing the ring on her right hand. SMACK! She slapped him clear across the face, smiling a slightly sadistic smile as the sound echoed through the graveyard.

"Ow! Jesus!" he exclaimed, clutching at his cheek. "What the fuck was that for?"

Izzy stared at him incredulously. "What was that for?" she screeched. "That was for being a fucking insensitive prick! I thought—we thought you were dead and you pull that shit? That's what that was for!" She slapped him hard again. "That was for fun!" Then she slapped him one last time. "That was for fucking dying in the first place!"

"Jesus, love, calm the fuck down!" he exclaimed, grabbing hold of her hand. "Not the face. This is the fuckin' moneymaker."

The two of them stared at each other for what felt for a long time, her looking up and him and him holding her arm. She wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment. Hell, she wanted to yank him away and snog him till they both passed out from lack of breath. Apparently miraculous reanimations of boys you fancy can act as quite the aphrodisiac. But then there was the whole unreciprocated racket and the fact that they were in a graveyard surrounded by four other people. Izzy cleared her throat self-consciously and pulled her arm out of his grasp, taking a few steps back.

"Why do you smell like shit?" she asked, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible.

"Ah," Nathan declared with his ever-present swagger. "That would be the shit."

"What?"

He smiled beatifically. "I appear to have shat myself."

There was a collective groan. "Ugh, Nathan," Izzy said, wrinkling her nose, "that is not something to be proud of."

"Were you having a wank in there?" Alisha demanded in a tone of disgust.

"Yeah, so what if I was? A man can't enjoy a quick shuffle in his own coffin?"

Izzy squeezed her eyes shut and tried to forget pretty much everything she had just heard. This was the bloke she had chosen to fancy. There had to be some serious Freudian shit going on with her for something like that to happen. Recreational wanking in coffins wasn't exactly something you look for in a guy. Then again, if you're locked in a tiny box for a few days there isn't much in the way of entertainment, is there? Nathan seemed to take notice of her less than enthusiastic reaction and bristled. "Don't you give me that disapprovin' mum look, Ginger! It's not like I was expectin' visitors."

Then Nathan spun on his heels and caught sight of Simon, who seemed to be trying his best to disappear without actually disappearing. "And you, you little freak!" Nathan growled, pointing an angry finger at Simon. "What was all that on the roof of the community center?"

Simon glanced around like he was looking for some place to hide. "I—I was trying to save you."

"Well you failed spectacularly, didn't you?"

"Just leave him, Nathan," Izzy pleaded. "He tried."

Nathan rolled his eyes and started rubbing his stomach absently. "Ugh. I need to eat. Has anyone got a kebab?"

"Do you want some chewing gum?" Simon asked, eager to do anything potentially helpful.

Nathan shot him a disdainful look. "Tutti frutti?"

Simon shrugged. "I like it."

Nathan sighed heavily and took the gum. Izzy didn't blame him. Three straight days of morning breath…you'd want anything to get the taste out of your mouth. He shoved into his mouth and started chewing eagerly. "Man, it was a bad scene in there," he muttered in the most serious tone Izzy had ever come out of his mouth. "I thought I was goin' to starve to death."

"You're immortal, you can't starve to death," Curtis pointed out, clearly still pissed about the morbid prank earlier. No love lost there. Then again Curtis had called Nathan a prick whilst toasting his memory, so how much could really be expected?

"So wot are ya gonna go do now?" Kelly asked, folding her arms over her chest and giving him an expectant look.

Nathan shrugged and kept chomping down on what was probably now about six sticks of gum. "I should probably go tell my mum that I'm immortal."

"You might want to change first, though," Izzy said, raising an eyebrow at him. "You smell worse than usual."

"Aw, come on now, Ginger! Words hurt!"

Izzy just rolled her eyes and grabbed at his sleeve, pulling him after her, ignoring what were probably very surprised looks from the rest of the group. "I got most your shit out of your locker before they through it away. You can take a shower at mine and I'll fix you something to eat. We don't want to traumatize the woman twice in one week, do we?"

"Is that a—?"

"It's not a fucking euphemism, Nathan! It's never a fucking euphemism!"

Izzy was doing her best to keep it together through all this. Maybe she was still in shock. That was entirely possible. She had seen him dead. He was dead. And now he was back again, and she was so very happy. But she was also that much more scared. Izzy prided herself on being strong so much of the time, but when it came to this kind of thing—to taking the first step or putting herself out there—she was a coward. Especially when the stakes were high. She could blame past experience in all that shit, but when it came down to it, she was just scared. She would stall, refuse to move past a point. Especially when there was so much uncertainty involved. As the two of them walked back to her flat, it struck her that Nathan was being really quiet as well. Oddly so. And he had his broody face on as well. It didn't make all that many appearances. As they kept walking, a thick aura of awkwardness seemed to keep building between them.

Izzy stopped walking suddenly, making Nathan stop with her. He looked at her curiously. "Ginger, what the f—"

Then she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug and burying her head into his shoulder. She felt oddly comfortable there, like that night they had fallen asleep on the sofa and she had woken up with his arm around her waist. It took a while, but eventually his arms wrapped around her as well, pulling her tight against his chest. She didn't even mind the smell all that much.

"I don't hug people," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I'd like to make that clear. I do not hug people."

"Right," he replied in a slightly confused tone. "We're not huggin' right now. Noted."

Izzy nodded. "I'm glad you're not dead." She pulled back, clearing her throat awkwardly, and when she finally brought herself to make eye contact with him again, he was wearing that insufferable smirk. She folded her arms across her chest and glowered at him. "What the fuck is your problem?"

The smirk widened and he shook his head. "Nothin'. I just see what's goin' on here."

Izzy narrowed her eyes. "And what might that be?"

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Simple. You love me."

Izzy erupted into a hacking cough. 'No."

"You're in love with me."

"That blood loss must've messed with your brain and made you more of an idiot than you already were, because—"

"You want to bear my children."

Izzy shook her head, her mouth gaping open a bit, before turning and walking away, leaving him trailing behind her.

"Oh come on, love!" he shouted, jogging to catch up with her. "We'd have beautiful Irish babies! What should we name 'em?"

She lifted her hand in the air, making a prominent display of her middle finger, but all that did was make him burst out into laughter again. Some things didn't change.

**So the next chapter will start out at Izzy's flat, and there will be some more awkward romantic tension stuff going on. She's still reeling a bit, so it'll be a bit longer before anything happens. Not too much longer, I think, but then again I have a tendency to over-write things.**

**I hope this chapter progressed okay and wasn't too jumpy.**

**Also, I hope you guys noticed that the last joky bit between the two of them is a reversal of what Izzy said to Nathan after he said she was his friend. I was going for a bit of symmetry there. **

**Please review. It makes me happy, and I like feedback.**

**References:**

**-~-'I'm not crying, it's just raining on my face' is a song by the band/comedians 'Flight of the Conchords'**

**-~-"Peaches and gravy" is a line from 'Scott Pilgrim vs. the World'**

**-~-"It's a trap"/Admiral Ackbar reference is from 'Star Wars'**

**-~- "Then what is the point of you" is a reference to Doctor Who when Amy asks the Doctor to save Rory and he can't. I cry like a hungry, angry baby whenever I see that scene. Persephone Price made the same reference in her Misfits story IAIF, so I'm not the only one who loves it!**


	23. Double-Take

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, witchbaby300, Adela, Becca, Sinead, MrsSheehanRheon, WonderlandJunkie, and BakerTennant'sTardis for reviewing. You have no idea how much I appreciate the input.**

**Oh, and because of the chapter snafu last week you may not be able to review the chapter (if you reviewed the last chapter while it was chapter 23/before I deleted the author's note), so if the system won't let you then just go back and review chapter 22. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 23 – Double-Take

This was all just so surreal. It had literally taken him three days to come back to life. She had seen a dead Nathan—she had stared into his empty eyes—and now, exactly three days later, he was back. The whole Jesus analogy was fitting way to well for her to be comfortable with it. Izzy certainly wasn't going to mention that comparison to Nathan. He would latch onto it and never let it go. She could see his reaction now. "What did I tell you, Ginger! I told you they couldn't improve upon perfection!" he would shout at the top of his lungs. And then go on a rant about how he was a lecherous Jesus or some shit like that.

All internal monologuing aside, she was still just so thrown by it all. He had died. He had been dead. She knew it and she understood it and she had felt it. She had grieved for him. She had closed that door. The whole closure thing—it had made her evaluate a lot of things, because she though she would never, ever have to deal with them again. Ever. But now all of those things were back, and they were standing in her shower humming and whistling some ridiculous tune. Leave it to Nathan to sneak back in through the fucking window. He always was a slick little bugger.

Boy trouble. Izzy McCallum was suffering from boy trouble. What a fucking cliché. She was a cliché of a cliché. It almost made her yearn for the days when her problems amounted to avoiding being arrested for murder. Life and death issues like that seem to have a way of putting some things into perspective. And now all of her issues were very much alive and singing…was that Brittany Spears? Jesus Christ, even his taste in music was annoying as hell. Sighing heavily, Izzy turned back to the pot of boiling water and dumped a heaping pile of pasta, giving rise to a hissing noise and a huge cloud of steam, and stirred the cream sauce bubbling on the other burner. She stood there, staring at the rolling boil of the water, absently stirring. Why was it all so freaking complicated? She really needed a drink. Or an intervention.

After a while she heard the tell-tale thunking noise of the pipes and the squeak of the tap being turned off. She shut her eyes and prepared for the oncoming storm. There was the typical frantic turning of the doorknob as he tried to work the tricky latch and a loud squeak as the door opened. "You might want to talk to somebody about the toilets, love," he said from somewhere behind her. "There might be a wee bit of a problem with the pipes."

Izzy groaned heavily and slammed her forehead into the cabinet in front of her. "What did I tell you, Nathan?" she muttered, turning around to face him. You've got to jiggle the handle if you don't wan—" The words died on her lips when she caught sight of him. His hair was still dripping from the shower, water droplets stuck in his curls, and was wearing nothing but a ratty old towel around his waist.

"Nathan! House rules!" she shouted, waving a stirring spoon at him like somebody's deranged grandparent. "Where the fuck are your pants?"

Nathan flashed her a wide, toothy grin. "Couldn't find 'em. I looked everywhere, cross my heart and hope to die!"

Izzy groaned and pinched at the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Maybe there in that giant pile of clothes. You know…the same pile of clothes I pointed at and said 'you can get some clothes from over there'."

Nathan collapsed on her sofa and sat in that way blokes do with their legs spread wide, giving her a fairly good view of what was under the towel. She groaned and held up a hand to obstruct the view. "Seriously?"

His insufferable smirk widened and he blew her a kiss. "Come on, love. You know you want to look."

Izzy rolled her eyes and stirred the pasta with a little bit more determination than usual. "You're assuming that there's something worth seeing," she muttered back. "And what I _want_ is for you to put some pants on."

Nathan lounged on the sofa and grabbed the remote, casually flipping the telly on. "You know I never had you figured for such a prude," he said through a yawn, toggling through the channels until he landed on a football game. "An' a man's junk has to breath every once and a while. It's stiflin'. You need to let it roam free. 'Au natural' the French call it."

Izzy let out a snort that was equal parts disbelief, derision, and amusement and shook her head. "I'm not interested in your free-range junk," she muttered back angrily. "And if you want to eat, you'll put your fucking pants on. The only person allowed to eat pasta naked in my flat is me."

Nathan's eyes widened a bit. "Well if you wanna…."

"Finish than sentence, and I will kill you again. And get your arse back to the bathroom and put some pants on or I swear I will 'accidentally' pour this boiling water all over your lap."

Nathan winced theatrically. "Alright, touchy," he said, slowly getting up and practically sauntering over to his pile of clothes, grabbing hold of a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt and moving back to the front door. Before he left, though, he paused at the doorframe and smirked back at her again. "You need to learn how to control yourself around me."

"Fuck. Off."

He just shot her another wink and ducked out the door before she could throw anything at him. Oh well. There was nothing heavy enough nearby anyway. Izzy swore under her breath and turned back to the stove. Soon enough she and a fully clothed Nathan were sitting on the sofa, each with a full bowl of pasta and a beer, and watching the telly. Thank God for an infinite supply of football games. It saved her from actually having to say anything. Between sarcasm, hostility, and just a general bad attitude, Izzy could usually rant on and on for hours about absolutely nothing, but for now her mind couldn't seem to settle on anything at all. There was that giant elephant in the room—the whole dying thing—but it seemed kind of insensitive to casually slip in a question like, 'how does it feel to have giant metal spikes piercing through your chest?'. Not that Izzy was generally considered to be sensitive or polite in the first place, but she honestly really didn't want to know. So she just sat there, peeling little bits of the paper label off of her beer and tossing them on the floor in front of her.

"You know I've always wanted to go to my own funeral," Nathan said suddenly, making her turn to face him. He had that same external appearance of joviality that was always there, but he got a certain more sober expression, just in the eyes. It made Izzy a bit uncomfortable, that subtle hint of seriousness. It made things feel more real if that made any sense. Nathan was so fucking unbelievable so much of the time, him acting like a real person shook her a bit. Judging by the sidelong glances he was shooting her, he was expecting some sort of response, but she didn't have one to give. Eventually he just cleared his throat and took another long sip of his beer. "So did you cry at my funeral?" he asked lightly. "I bet there were loads of girls there all cryin' about how they didn't shag me while I was still alive. Too late, ladies! This ship has sailed."

Izzy scoffed and rolled her eyes heavily. "You can be such a twat."

"Oh, I missed you too," he said with a small smile, nudging her in the side with his elbow, making her shove him back. He started getting quite fidgety, drumming his fingers on his leg and blowing out a long breath. "So what was it like being a virtue virgin? You didn't get, like, re-hymenated or some shit like that did you?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nathan!" she shouted, grabbing a nearby pillow and smacking him in the face with it. "Do you ever think to yourself, 'hm, maybe that question is just a little bit inappropriate?'"

He let out a derisive snort. "Please, who has the time for 'thinkin' things over'. I live in the 'now', I carpe the fucking diem and all that inspirational bullshit."

Izzy laughed and put her pasta on the floor next to her. She pulled the hair tie out of her hair, letting it spill down over her shoulders, and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "To answer your question, I don't remember any of the 'virtue virgin' shit. I do know that virtuous Izzy was kind of a bitch. She tossed all of my DVDs with anything remotely violent in them and she dressed me in _pink_ for fuck's sake. Maybe it was the same as with you and the baby. If someone puts the mental whammy on you, you don't have to remember it." She glanced over him and saw a weird look cross over his face. It was something akin to…..disappointment. Or was it relief? She couldn't really tell, but either way it raised a lot of questions. Izzy pursed her lips and studied his face carefully. "Why?" she asked hesitantly. "Is there something I should remember?"

Nathan smiled widely again and shook his head. "Nah, man. I was just wondering if you remembered what a twat you were. You were wearing a fucking cardigan." Then Nathan grabbed hold of her wrist and twisted it so that he could see her watch. "It's gettin' late," he said, shoveling the last of the pasta in his mouth. "I should probably go 'round my mum's an' let her know I'm alive and shit."

Izzy pressed her lips together and nodded. "Yeah, yeah you should. Just—just don't spring it on her or anything, alright? She was pretty shaken up."

Suddenly his face was covered with an expression of pure, unadulterated terror. "You talked to my mum?"

Izzy snickered a bit at the sudden horror. "Yeah, did. All the baby photos and all of those adorable little stories about young Nathan." His expression grew more and more distraught until she finally decided to take pity on him. "I'm dicking with you. Calm the fuck down."

Nathan glowered at her for a few moments and then turned back to the telly. "How'd you reckon she'll take it? I mean, me showin' up after a few days of bein' dead."

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" she demanded, almost angrily. "She'll be happy of course. She'll be ecstatic."

"No, I know," he mumbled back. "But it's like—I was dead, and now I'm not. It's a bit of a mind fuck, isn't it?"

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows, considering the question for a moment. It most certainly a mind-fuck, but she knew if her mother suddenly strode in through her front door, she wouldn't bother questioning for a second. She glanced back at Nathan who was still looking at her expectantly, a question written all over his face. Izzy bit her lip and shrugged. "Yeah, it'll be weird, but she's living with a gay, rapist werewolf, isn't she? The bar for weird shit has kind of been raised, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," he said nodding a bit. The two of them sat there silent for a while until Nathan stood suddenly. "Well, I should probably go let my mum I'm not dead then," he mumbled, jerking his thumb in the direction of the door.

Izzy cleared her throat and nodded awkwardly. "Sure. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yup."

He made a beeline for the door and slammed it behind him, leaving Izzy alone in her flat again. She groaned and moved back to the kitchen, piling more pasta into her bowl. Eating your feelings might not be all that emotionally productive, but it tastes really fucking good. On her way back to the sofa she paused by the cabinet and grabbed that mostly full bottle of red wine. Drinking her feelings wasn't all that bad either.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

When Izzy arrived at the community center the next morning, she had the smallest hint of a hangover—the kind where your mouth is dry and you feel only the mildest sting of a headache. She probably shouldn't have started in on that wine—she tended to get a bit carried away in the middle of major emotional upheavals. Anyways the long and short of it was that she had finished the entire fucking bottle while reading through all her favorite bits of 'Pride and Prejudice', eating chocolates, and mentally berating Jane Austen for creating such ridiculously unattainable expectations. Not that Mr. Darcy was what she was looking for. Far too stuffy.

Needless to say, Izzy was dragging her feet a little as she walked up the steps and headed to the locker room. She quickly changed into her jumpsuit and found the rest of them already for work, while Nathan was apparently engaging in some impromptu theater or miming or something while he went on about his visit to his mum's house.

"….so my mum opens the door and she's all like 'ahhhhhh!', and I'm like 'I'm immortal!'. Then she fainted. Faceplants on the radiator—there's blood and teeth everywhere."

"Iz she gonna be awright?" Kelly asked, wrinkling her nose at the gruesome mental image.

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine. Apart from the whole….face. It kind of put a damper on the whole thing." He glanced past the others and caught sight of Izzy walking up behind her. "How nice of you to join us, Ginger," he said brightly. "I've just been tellin' everyone about my miraculous resurrection."

"I heard," she returned with a sarcastic raising of the eyebrows. "What about your dad? Somehow I doubt the whole immortality gig won't exactly work with him."

"Oh, him," Nathan scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "I handled it. Told him that I faked my death as a part of an elaborate life insurance scam. He was not a happy man."

Following that little declaration was, of course, Izzy's obligatory eye roll and Curtis's obligatory muttering of the word 'prick' under his breath. Then she noticed the new probation worker walk by the room and do a double take. Oh, shit. That's right. Nathan was officially dead. Izzy slammed her fist into her forehead. It was amazing that the six of them managed to dress themselves in the morning what with the spectacular lack of foresight.

"Who're you?" the probation worker asked, nodding in Nathan's direction.

Nathan narrowed his eyes at the man and looked him up and down suspiciously. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm the probation worker," he replied shortly.

"Oh," he said in a mildly surprised voice, holding his hand out. "I'm Nathan—Nathan Young."

The man—she still didn't know his name—just stared at Nathan's hand like it belonged to typhoid Mary and refused to take it. "They told me you were dead," he deadpanned in a surprisingly unsurprised voice.

"Really?" Nathan snarked, holding two fingers to his jugular, miming checking his pulse and then putting on a shocked expression. "Apparently not. Could a dead man do this?" And then he proceeded to do a ridiculous dance. Izzy, seeing the potential in the situation, edged her way next to him, casually opened one of the lockers, and quickly looked away putting on the mask of innocence. Then after a few more minutes of Nathan having an epileptic fit while standing up, there was the satisfying noise of his head colliding with the locker door. "Jesus!" he shouted out, grabbing at his forehead and glaring at the rest of them who were snickering into their hands in a not-so-subtle way. "Ginger, you did that on purpose." She just shrugged and blew him a kiss.

"Well, I'll go put you back in the system then," the probation worker drawled apathetically.

"Hold on, what?" Nathan shouted after him. "Are you sayin' that I was out of the system, that I was a free man? And if I didn't show up here noone would have come lookin' for me?"

The probation worker shrugged noncommittally. "We thought you were dead."

Izzy couldn't help but burst out in laughter at the look of rage that crossed Nathan's face. "Come on now, Nathan," she said, draping an arm over his shoulder. "It looks like you're stuck with us for a bit longer."

After that, strangely enough, it was business as usual. It was a four day interlude in the typical community service shit, but in those four days—it was like her life was a snow globe that some annoying little fucker picked up and started shaking it had so that shit was flying everywhere. Chaos, pure bloody chaos. And now, four days later, everything had settled and she was just standing there with a paintbrush, listening to everybody talk and bicker. It felt a bit like someone hit the reset button and she had started out on that first day again. All they needed was for Simon to get his arse over there with the white paint.

When Simon finally got back from the storage unit, he walked straight at them staring with an intensity a little bit more…..well, intense…than usual, like tunnel vision or some shit like that. Then all of the sudden this small, pale girl with dark hair—one of the mental patients who were still hanging around—popped seemingly out of nowhere and darted in front of her. Simon glanced around in an awkward, panicked sort of way. Izzy couldn't hear what the girl was saying to him, but whatever it was Simon definitely wasn't happy she was saying it. Kelly must have been tuning into Izzy FM radio, because her eyes quickly shot to Izzy's and then she turned around to look at Simon as well. He dodged around the girl and scuttled over to the group, leaving her staring after him and looking fairly….heartbroken.

"Do ya know 'er or somefin'?" Kelly asked quietly as he walked by her.

Simon shook his head quickly. "No."

Alisha snorted derisively. "Are you tryin' to shag her?"

"She's not that mentally ill," Nathan said loudly. "Or maybe she is….."

Izzy walked over and smacked him upside the head. "Would you stop being such a prick," she hissed under her breath. The girl had clearly heard him. Her eyes were small and dark, kind of like a rabbit's, and there was definitely some crazy lurking in the brain behind them, but they were beginning to water. The girl was probably about their age, but she looked so small and so sad, and that was something Izzy could sympathize with. "Don't mind him," she shouted at the girl. "I apologize for his existence."

"Hey, no offense," Nathan continued. "A lot of people say I'm mentally ill, but obviously I'm not because I'm over here and you're over there….with the other crazies."

Izzy gritted her teeth when the girl started crying. "You might not be over there with the mentals, Nathan," she muttered, "but what you are is a twat with narcissistic personality disorder."

He shot her a dazzling smile. "Guilty. That narcissist-ish thing is handsome disease right?"

Izzy and barely managed to restrain the snort of laughter and flicked some paint at him. Yup. Just like the first day.

When break time came, Izzy and Kelly went to grab a few drinks before heading to the roof. As they passed by the locker rooms, Alisha burst out of the door wiping at the corner of her mouth—presumably after applying lip gloss for the twentieth time that day—and looking oddly smug. Izzy was beginning to warm to the girl, but she would never understand the obsession with makeup and shit. Still, though, Alisha had been quite nice to her lately, lending her the dress and all that. It wouldn't kill her to put in a little effort.

"Oi," she shouted, tossing a drink at Alisha, who caught it deftly. "We're heading up to the roof and throwing bits of gravel at pedestrians. Coming?"

Alisha looked a little bewildered, but nodded, trailing behind them up the stairs. As soon as they stepped out on the tarmac, Kelly pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag. Alisha on the other hand collapsed on the sofa and put her sunglasses on, smacking her gum dramatically. She was being oddly quiet though. The three of them sat there for a while in silence. Izzy closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of the sun on her face.

"So wot da fock iz goin' on wiv you an'Nathan?" Kelly asked, fixing Izzy under her glare. At that Alisha seemed to brighten up a bit, or gain interest or whatever, sitting up and looking at Izzy intently.

Izzy cracked one of her eyes open to look at Kelly. She shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing."

Alisha scoffed heavily. "I doubt that. When he's not busy being a complete prick to those people downstairs he's staring at you arse."

"Alisha's right," Kelly drawled out, still puffing away. "An' why did you bring all his shit home? And wot were da two of you doin' last night? You know there's no point in lyin'." She tapped the side of her head with her finger. "I can 'ear the troof."

Izzy folded her arms across her chest and bounced on the balls of her feet nervously. She felt like she wanted to explode—out of embarrassment or frustration, she couldn't quite tell with. "Fine!" she shouted, probably significantly louder than usual. "Fine. I fancy him, okay? I fancy Nathan Young. Jesus fucking Christ."

Izzy looked at the two other girls, trying to gauge their reactions. Alisha bust out laughing and Kelly had a smug look. Izzy groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "That's actually the first time I've said it out loud. None of it makes any sense—he's a complete twat—but I fancy him. And the two of you better keep your mouths shut," she growled, pointing at them.

Alisha just kept laughing. "Ugh," she snickered, standing up and wiping at her eyes. "Shit, I'm cryin'. I've got to go fix my makeup." She wandered over and went back down the stairs, swaying her hips even more dramatically than usual.

Izzy groaned and ran her hands down her face. "I can't believe this is happening to me. I am absolute shit when it comes to this kind of thing."

Kelly patted her on the shoulder in a comforting sort of way. " 'E fancies you too, ya know. 'E finks about ya a lot."

"Yeah?" Izzy demanded through a light laugh. "Is he thinking about me or my arse?" Kelly had no response for that, so Izzy just nodded her head. "That's what I thought—look I don't want to talk about this, so change of subject. What do you think of the new probation worker?"

The two of them chatted about Greasy—Izzy's moniker for the new probation worker—for a while until break ended and they headed back downstairs to finish with the painting. She waved Kelly on, heading over the restroom to splash some water on her face and find a nice, quiet place to curl up and die from embarrassment. As she made her way to the door, it suddenly flew open and Nathan came tripping out, looking a bit rumpled and incredibly pissed. When he caught sight of her he stomped towards her, fuming.

"Hey, I have never had any complaints!" he yelled at her, making her eyebrows furrow in confusion. He blinked and seemed to reconsider his previous statement. "Okay, maybe I've had a few. But maybe it wouldn't be such a problem if you—" he pointed at her "—didn't have such a massive fanny!" His hands dropped to his crotch as he mimed—fuck was he miming her vagina? That's a new way to feel violated.

Izzy raised her hands in submission, and shook her head. "Honestly, Nathan, I have no fucking idea what you're on about."

"I'm talking about your jumbo-sized twat!"

Izzy just gaped at him. She just turned around and walked down the hall away from him without a single word. If someone was going to cure her of her feelings for Nathan, it would definitely be Nathan. Not that she really gave a shit about his insults—sticks and stones and all that, she wasn't that sensitive—but it just reminded her of how stupid she was being.

"Hey I have feelings!" he shouted after her. "And so does my cock!"

What the fuck was Nathan talking about? He was a dick, sure, but he wasn't a complete mental case. Where had all of that come from? Things were getting weird again. It was like there was static thick in the air. Everybody was acting off—Nathan, Alisha, Simon—and Izzy had the distinct feeling that something was going to happen. She walked over to where Kelly and Alisha were standing and swore under her breath. And then, just because this day would not fucking end, there were the sounds of a scuffle in the hallway.

"Wot's that?" Kelly asked, squinting her eyes as she strained to hear. Then there was the distinct sound of somebody getting hit in the gut. The three girls jogged away from their post and piled into the hallway where they found Simon being beaten to a pulp by an enraged Curtis. And Nathan was just sitting there on a gurney-looking thing with a sloppy smile on his face. Like he was enjoying it. Like all that would complete the situation was if he had a bag of fucking popcorn.

Izzy felt pressure starting to build under her skin as she saw Curtis continue to punch Simon. "Stop!" And as soon as she shouted, Curtis was blown backwards from Simon's cowering figure and collided heavily with the wall. Well that was new.

"What the fuck was that?" Curtis shouted, scrambling to his feet.

But before he could get any semblance of an answer Kelly strode forward, grabbed him by the shirt, and shoved him away from Simon as Izzy walked over to help him up. "Wot are ya doin'?" Kelly demanded angrily.

Curtis looked around at all of them, but when his eyes fell on Alisha, he froze. "What happened to all the blood?"

"Did you hit 'im?" Kelly screeched at Curtis.

"He attacked Alisha!"

"Uh, no he didn't," Alisha shouted.

Curtis was looking at her in disbelief. "No, you—you were in the locker room. You're face was all messed up. You said he attacked you!"

"What are you talkin' about?"

Kelly stepped between the two of them, getting in Curtis's face. "If you 'it 'im again, I will kick your balls into your fockin' stomach, mate!"

What the fuck was going on? With all the screaming and the yelling it was hard for her to think, and Nathan was sitting there, smiling like an idiot with his eyes darting around like he was sitting on her sofa watching a game of football.

"I think he's been wanking over me," Alisha threw in with a patronizing smile.

Curtis's eyebrows shot up as he turned to face Simon, who shrank back into the wall. "I—I haven't."

Nathan scoffed heavily. "Well that's not very convincing!"

Then all of the sudden Kelly's eyes widened in shock. "She gave you a blow job?"

Alisha flinched and a look of revulsion crossed her face. "What?"

"I read 'is mind. 'E says that you sucked 'im off."

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" Curtis asked in a highly confused tone.

"If I was going to suck someone's cock," Alisha barreled on, gesturing at Simon, "trust me, it wouldn't be his!"

Simon looked down at the floor with a sad expression on his face. Alisha had just kicked the puppy. Again.

"Awwwwwww," Nathan drew out in a sarcastic tone, "are you goin' to cry now?"

Izzy smacked Nathan on the back of the head and hissed at him to shut the fuck up before turning to the others. "Look, Simon. Safe space—cone of truth—whatever the hell you want to call it, just tell us the truth. Did Alisha give you a blow job."

He meekly glanced around at all of their faces before giving a slight, almost imperceptible nod. And then it was like Alisha exploded.

"Whoever it was that was sucking your cock, it wasn't me!"

Izzy's mind was racing, and then something occurred to her. Was it? But it couldn't be. But nothing was impossible—not anymore, not after the storm. "Now hold on a minute," she said holding her arms up and indicating for them to stop talking. "Alisha, were you on the roof with me and Kelly during the lunch break?"

Alisha shot her a weird look. "No," she muttered angrily. "I was on the balcony."

Curtis swore under his breath and shook his head. "There is definitely something weird going on."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm guessing it's your fault," Nathan said gleefully, pointing at Simon.

Izzy walked over and shoved him a bit. "What the fuck is your problem today?"

But nobody was paying attention to her, because shoving at Nathan dislodged some of that black, plastic sheet that was covering the gurney. It was an arm. A human arm. For a second she was hoping that it belonged to a dummy or a mannequin or a fucking wax sculpture, but Izzy was pretty sure that none of those things would have that sickly gray color. And none of them would be covered in ice crystals. Simon squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, turning towards the wall. Nobody spoke as Nathan reached forwards and took hold of the tarp, slowly pulling it away. Izzy knew what was underneath, but she wasn't prepared for it. Ultimately what she was prepared for didn't really matter because there she was staring at the contorted, frost-bitten body of probation worker Sally. Shit—her eyes followed you wherever you moved.

"Is—is dat the probation worka?" Kelly asked hesitantly, still wincing at the sight.

"Correction," Izzy said in a dazed voice, "it's the corpsicle that used to be the probation worker."

Curtis kept looking between Simon and the body with an incredulous expression on his face. "Y—you killed her."

Simon turned to face them, terrified and on the verge of tears. "She—she was after us—she was engaged to Tony, the first probation worker…she found out about us killing him."

"Oh, so you kill her?" Alisha shouted, becoming slightly hysterical. "Well that's brilliant! Problem solved!"

"Sh—she was going to the police! I didn't mean to kill her, it was—it was an accident!"

Izzy felt that tingling sensation of panic shooting through every single nerve of her body. She might as well have been shoving paper clips into electrical sockets with the way she was feeling. At least there wasn't any blood this time. At least her brain remained partially functional. "Okay," she whispered through artificially steadied breaths, trying to calm herself down. "Okay, so what do we do? Think McCallum—" She slammed her fist to her forehead. "—think, damn it! Is anyone else thinking?"

Then she noticed a weird, mental serial killer-like smile spread across Nathan's face as he leered at Simon. "You're a weird little psycho," he sneered. "And now everybody knows it." He turned and slowly walked down the hallway all dramatic-like. Holy fucking shit. That wasn't Nathan. Nathan was a lot of things and he could be a prick, but he would not wander off like that—at least not when it was his neck as well.

" 'Ey, don' you walk away," Kelly shouted after 'him'. "Dis is on all of oz!"

Curtis punched the wall angrily. "I thought we were through with this shit!"

And then with perfect comedic timing there was the sound of a toiled flushing. The door to the restroom opened and Nathan walked out fanning his own stench out of his face and groaning. "Man, I do not know what is goin' on with my guts," he muttered, clearly oblivious to their expressions of horror. "It's all hot cross buns and Easter eggs when gets resurrected."

Izzy should have guessed as much. Alisha was in two places at once, and her alter-ego was acting off, the same was probably true for Nathan as well. And that meant that they had confessed murdering their two probation workers to a delusional psychopath who was apparently hell-bent on wreaking havoc and raining misery down on all of their live. You know, your typical Monday.

Simon was the first of them to regain the capacity for speech. "That—that wasn't Nathan?"

Curtis's jaw clenched and he shook his head. "Whoever it is, they know we killed our probation worker."

Nathan blinked stupidly. "Did someone kill our probation worker?"

Izzy leaned against the wall and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. Mondays were the worst.

**There's chapter 23. It's a bit jumpy and confusing, but let's face it—so is the episode. Sorry as always for the inevitable spelling and grammar errors, but I think faster than I type.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, and please review.**


	24. Monkey Slut

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, Adela, and incitanemxx for reviewing. You have no idea how much I appreciate the input.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

**So I was really unhappy with the last chapter. There's so much action, I felt like I was jumping around a lot and I didn't know how to fix it and….ugh. There's a lot of action here as well, and I hope it came out better. Also, my lovely three reviewers were a bit surprised by Nathan being disappointed that she couldn't remember instead of relieved, and I totally agree. I did a bit of a quick fix.**

**Also, I finished this chapter at about 3am, so please forgive any mistakes.**

Chapter 24 – Monkey Slut

"Seriously? I spend a few hours in the toilets and I miss all that? Life is just passing me by!"

Izzy was still sitting on the floor, curled up in a little ball with her arms pulling her legs up to her chest and her head resting on her knees. It was bad enough to have to go through this doppelganger mind-fuck the first time around, and hearing Simon explain it all again wasn't exactly comforting. She really didn't need to be reminded of how royally fucked they were, and that was the inevitable conclusion to the story. Part of her just wanted to go to sleep, to check out of the whole situation. But that wasn't really going to help anyone, was it? There was a mad Metamorphagus on the loose—there was a situation that needed to be resolved. Immediately.

Letting her head fall back on her shoulders, Izzy stared up at the faintly mildewed cork board on the ceiling above her. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She slapped her own cheeks to jar herself into full awareness, and pushed herself up off the floor. "Alright," she said, looking between the others and clapping her hands together definitively, "story time is over. We need to figure out what to do here."

"Who was that just now?" Alisha asked, gesturing down the hallway in the direction not-Nathan had.

"I think it's a shape-shifter," Simon said quietly, smoothing down his hair nervously. "It can take on other people's appearance. I saw it in an episode of Star Trek."

Curtis raised his eyebrows and shook his head in disbelief. Izzy didn't really see how this scenario was so unbelievable to him. He could rewind time for Christ's sake. Throw in a doppelganger and suddenly things get weird?

"We should probably watch some more of this science fiction stuff," he muttered absently. "We might finally figure out what's goin' on around here."

Suddenly Nathan, who had been standing there clutching his rolled up magazine like it was a weapon turned to her with a pained expression on his face. She bristled and shoved her hands into her pockets, adopting a more hostile posture. "What?"

He winced a bit before speaking. "So that wasn't you who said those very hurtful things about the size of my cock?"

Izzy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "No. Of course not."

Nathan's expression grew even more pained and he let out a small sigh of realization. "Oh, then you're probably wondering why I said you had a….." There was a small pause and the dropped his hands. Oh, shit he was miming her vagina again. "….a huge fanny. There may have been a bit of a mix-up." He closed his eyes and shook his head. Shit, he looked like he was actually, properly sorry. Izzy had never seen him think twice about anything he said, and all the sudden he seemed to be feeling genuine regret and remorse. It might have been a bit sadistic, but she was enjoying the whole situation. And then something occurred to her.

"Why the fuck would I be talking about your penis in the first place?"

Nathan's demeanor shifted radically from apologetic to nervous, glancing twitchily around the room and clearing his throat. "Nothin'," he mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck. "No reason whatsoever."

Izzy opened her mouth to say something else, but Alisha cut her off. "Guys, what the fuck are we going to do?" she demanded anxiously.

Izzy rubbed her eyes and snapped herself back to attention. "Right," she said in a determined voice, "so we know that this twat is a shape-shifter, but that's what it is and not who it is. They seem to want to fuck with us more than anything else, so I don't think they'll be running straight to the police."

Alisha started nodding quickly along with her words. "That's good, yeah? No police? So what do we do now?"

"We should set up a password," Simon added quietly, "one that we can say to each other so that we know it's us."

"Monkey slut!" Nathan shouted snapping his fingers eagerly and pointing at each of them.

Izzy let out a loud snort. "Seriously? That's the password you keep handy in your back pocket?"

"We're not having 'monkey slut' as a password," Alisha said through a scoff.

"What are the chances of that being used in a normal conversation? Kinda low, no?"

"Aw, jus' go wiv it," Kelly muttered in that no-nonsense tone she seemed to be using so much these days. "Monkey slut."

Nathan let out a growl and pumped his fist in the air in victory. Izzy sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and shook her head in frustration and mild, patronizing amusement. He was a fucking child. And somehow that ended up with her acting like his mum. Hell, she fed him, she cleaned up after him after her destroyed her flat. Twice. He was like a ten-year-old on a sugar rush—a lewd ten-year-old.

"Put your arm down, idiot," she said, yanking his arm out of the air and taking a few steps down the hallway after not-Nathan. She was half-way to the door when she realized that none of them were following her. She spun on her heels and waved at them to follow her. "Come on, then," she hissed loudly. "We've got to find this prick. This is kind of time sensitive shit we're dealing with!"

There was a bit of shuffling around, some bumping into each other, and more than a little bit of swearing, but soon enough they were huddled together and taking small, careful steps through the hallways of the community center. It was like they were a small, incompetent phalanx marching around, going to war with an enemy army of one. It occurred to Izzy that they probably looked fairly pathetic, glancing around wild-eyed and anxious.

"We need to find out who it is before they go to the police," Curtis whispered anxiously.

Izzy bit her lip and nodded in agreement. "I'm pretty sure they're not done messing with us yet," she muttered back. "I usually don't like being fucked with, but for now I think we should be pretty freaking grateful for it."

"It's the probation worker," said an exasperated-sounding Alisha. "It's always the probation worker."

"Yeah," Nathan murmured, leaning over her shoulder so he could talk in a hushed voice to the rest of the group. "That dead chick was the other probation worker's fiancée! Maybe this new one's his brother!"

Simon turned around and looked at Nathan like he was insane. "He's white. Tony was black."

But Nathan, in true form, would not let someone else have the last word. "Uh, adopted brother," he said, poking Simon in the back. "Adopted kids are nutjobs!"

Izzy felt cold anger flow through her veins, and she started grinding her teeth. Prick. If adopted kids were nutjobs, what exactly did that make her? She wanted to smack him upside the head, but she didn't. It wasn't the time for that kind of thing. She was busy tiptoeing around like she was in an episode of 'Scooby Doo'. Except for the fact that they were trying to commit crime rather than solve it. This would just be one of those things she filed under 'Things to be Pissed at Nathan About' and yell at him later. That file was getting pretty full lately.

The lot of them turned the corner into the front entrance and found themselves staring at some bizarre combination of an elf and a hobbit. It was that girl—the mental one from this morning, the one Nathan had been teasing. It probably wasn't fair, but she decided to blame him for that as well. With all the shit he had said today, her brain wasn't exactly predisposed to do him any favors.

Then Simon's eyes widened in recognition. "Lucy!"

Of course her name was Lucy. It was such a sweet and innocent sounding name—like she should have pigtails and a lollipop or something. In horror films it's always that innocent looking kid who ends up being a serial killer or the antichrist or some shit like that. She stared at them with a creepy sort of intensity that put even Simon to shame. When she caught sight of them she froze for a moment and then scurried through the door that led to the lobby.

Izzy was about to take of after her, but Curtis grabbed hold of her sleeve and pulled her back, calling out for them all to wait. Izzy wrenched her arm out of his grasp and turned back to the lobby when all of the sudden the skeevy new probation worker walked out, whistling and twirling his ID badge around on his finger.

"Right," he said through a yawn, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Aw, good one," Nathan sneered sarcastically. "Very convincing!"

"It's not her!" Curtis hissed at him.

He waved them over so they were bunched together in a tight circle and gave them the rundown. This whole 'rewinding time' thing may be useful, but it was kind of a pain in the arse with the whole 'explanation' bullshit—especially when it happened in the middle of a chase. Izzy wasn't quite sure she believed Curtis. She certainly didn't want to. The description of Kelly bashing in his skull with a fire extinguisher and exploding brain matter was certainly excessively graphic—and how the hell was it that they could end up murdering three probation workers in the space of a couple of weeks? She blamed the video games.

Izzy kept glancing over at the probation worker who was eyeing them suspiciously. "What's goin' on here?"

They all bolted upright and faced him. Fuck, this was probably the best posture any of them had ever had. It was odd, wasn't it?—That people always stand straighter when they're trying to look all innocent and shit, and then they end up just acting guiltier. They must look like a bunch of fucking meercats. They let out their chorus of high-pitched no's, making him narrow his eyes even further.

"You're obviously lying," he said in a voice that made Izzy's stomach clench. And then that smirk showed up again. "—But it's five o'clock, and I couldn't give a shit."

Izzy let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. For once institutional competence was working in her favor. They stood there completely still as he swaggered past them, but not before his eyes raked over each of the girls' bodies. Typical. Of course he was a perv. They waited for him to go, Curtis shouting a half-hearted 'have a good one!' as he left. He rounded the corner and…..three…two…one.

They sprinted off after that girl Lucy like those greyhounds chasing that fake rabbit around the track, skidding a bit as sneakers slipped against the plastic tiles. She managed to barrel her way into the office and tried to force her way out the other side, but it was locked. Izzy let out an internal cry of victory. They had finally caught a fucking break. But in the millisecond it took the lot of them to pile into that tiny room she had seemingly evaporated.

"Where's she gone?" Curtis shouted anxiously.

Izzy spun around wildly, looking anywhere and everywhere for options of an exit. Air vents? No. Pipes? No, that was fucking idiotic. Get it together, McCallum.

Some how Simon's voice managed to penetrate through that panicked haze clouding her head. "She's turned into a mouse!"

Then her eyes snapped to the center of a room where a tiny, meek little mouse sat there, staring at them. Something which Alisha seemed to find absolutely terrifying, letting out a shriek. Because _now_ was the time to start getting freaked out.

"Oh come on," Izzy groaned as the Lucy mouse scurried behind one of the filing cabinets. "How is this fair?"

Simon and Curtis rushed forward, yanking the filing cabinets away from the wall and grabbing at the mouse, but it managed to make its way into one of the lower floor vents, just out of reach. Fucking perfect.

Suddenly Nathan snapped his fingers and the metaphorical light bulb appeared over his head. "Get some cheese!"

Kelly made a face and let out a derisive snort. "Are you fockin' serious?"

Izzy rubbed at her forehead to try and stave off the migraine that was beginning to form. Well, all they could do now was wait. And arm themselves. Nathan, Curtis, and Simon kept what was hopefully a diligent watch over that air vent, waiting for the Lucy mouse to get bored and show her face. In the meantime, Izzy was bored. And anxious. It was the combination of those two feelings that was causing that sick swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She got that feeling a lot when she was a kid, waiting for other people to make decisions about her life for her. And now the person making those decisions was a mouse? That was a new low.

In what Izzy maintained was a highly sexist division of labor, the three girls stayed out in the hallway—it was too cramped in that tiny office for the six of them. She sprawled out in one of those three faded blue armchairs in the hallway outside the office, legs draped over the armrest with a cricket bat on her lap, and squinted through the blinds of the window. The three blokes were standing there, staring at the vent with various blunt objects at the ready. It wasn't likely that Lucy would make a move with them standing there like that, but it's not like there was really any alternative. She picked up the ball she had grabbed from the storage closet and began tossing it in the air. Might as well work on her hand-eye coordination as the six of them floated around in limbo.

A heavy sigh came from the armchair on the far right, making Izzy wriggle in her seat until she was sitting upright. Alisha was staring through the window at the back of Curtis's head, like she was trying to figure out what he was thinking. "Hey," she said tossing the ball at her.

When the ball hit her in the shoulder, Alisha spun around and shot her a glare. "What?"

"Nothing," she said shrugging her shoulders. "It just looked like you had something on your mind. We've got some time to kill, so….girl talk, group therapy, whatever the fuck you want to call it."

Alisha sighed heavily looked back over at her boyfriend. For the first time she looked unsure of herself. It was seriously off-putting. "You just know Curtis is goin' to freak out about the whole—" she used the wrench she was holding to mime a blowjob "—I mean, it wasn't even me."

"Yeah," Kelly murmured pityingly and nodding in understanding. "One of my exes was watchin' a porno, yeah? An' 'e says 'e saw a girl who looked like me getting' shagged by a load o' dwarfs. Did 'is 'ead in. An' that woz it. Ova."

Izzy let out a snort of laughter, which by all rights probably wasn't the best of responses to make. She shot the other girls an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she mumbled. "It's just—I'm pretty sure you're well rid of him. I mean dwarf porn? Pretty soon he'll be asking you to dress up as Snow White and talk dirty."

Kelly let out a light laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I guess your right."

Izzy cracked her neck and stretched, glancing over Alisha. She sighed and swung her legs over the armrest so she was sitting up straight. "You and Curtis are going to be fine," she said sympathetically.

Alisha let out a scoff and folded her arms across her chest defensively. "How would you know?"

"Because I can tell when people are ready to bolt," she said simply. "Call it my special superpower. I mean, my non-storm-related completely made up superpower. But trust me, the two of you will be fine. No bolting."

Alisha gave her a curious look. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Izzy was about to settle back in her chair, and was even contemplating a nap when all the sudden a loud crash in the office. Izzy threw herself to and looked through the window. The blokes were jumping up and down like crazed baboons—Nathan was shrieking like one too—and papers were flying every which-way. They started rushing towards the door, and Izzy grabbed her cricket bat, running to join them.

"Split up!" Curtis shouted as they burst through the door. "Find her!"

The six of them shot in different directions and Izzy found herself alone, brandishing her cricket bat, and sneaking through an empty hallway. The community center was usually just an assault of beige mediocrity, but now it was legitimately creepy. The crappy fluorescent lights cast a harsh light over everything and they reflected off the tiles with an eerie glow, and every chair or pile of crap people left in the hallway cast these harsh shadows that looked like they were reaching out for her. It was like a B-grade horror film—hell the villain was a freakishly pale girl with long brown hair. They might as well be in _The Ring_. And it suddenly occurred to her that they were making all of the classic mistakes. They were in an empty building, they split up….Shit, she had better not be the busty coed who gets killed in the first ten minutes. One thing was for sure: she wasn't going in the basement.

"Here, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy," she whispered in a singsong voice. It seemed worth a shot, not that it yielded any results. Now that she was paying attention, it began to strike her how similar all those hallways looked. She could probably be walking in circles without really realizing it. This whole thing was fucking with her head. Each time she rounded the corner she expected to see that girl pop out from some hidden corner. The only thing that could possibly make it any worse would be a killer clown.

Eventually she found herself on the roof. Nothing. How in the hell was she supposed to find someone who could theoretically turn themselves into a mouse or a flea or a freaking amoeba. Izzy kicked at an empty beer can lying on ground and let out a strangled scream. "FUCK! MY! LIFE!" Her words echoed throughout the estate. For a second she felt like someone else might have heard—that there was some tangible and lasting impression of this fucking disaster that was her life—but it was immediately drowned out by the sirens, car horns, and other ambient noise. It was probably a good thing. It's not like the world cared anyway. She angrily kicked the door open and ran back down the stairs.

As soon as she made it to the bottom of the stairs the lights started flickering for like the fiftieth time that night. What a fucking cliché. Then there was a clattering noise behind the set of double doors at the end of the hall. Her hands tightened involuntarily around the grip of the cricket bat and she tip-toed swiftly to the door. She slowly and quietly pushed the door open cracking it just enough to see through. What she saw on the other side made her freeze. There was a figure wearing a mask, dressed completely in black and wearing what looked like body armor. It was like one of those characters from a game of Halo decided to hop off the screen and wander around the community center. This shit just kept getting weirder and weirder.

That wasn't the mental girl, Izzy was sure of that much. Lucy was having too much fun wearing all of their faces. There was no point introducing a new character in her sick little game. There was no benefit in following him, but she really couldn't help it. She waited till he rounded the corner and then darted after him, but before she got far it was like she ran into this wall of black. The bugger had switched off the lights.

She could hear shouts coming from the end of the hall—it sounded like Nathan and Kelly—and there were the sounds of a struggle. One of them was in trouble. Or both of them. Izzy opened her eyes as wide as she could moved forward blindly, following the wall with her fingertips and trying to get to the source of a noise. Then her foot got caught in some sort of netting and was sent crashing to the ground, landing hard on her right shoulder. A familiar sharp pain radiated out from the socket, shooting down her arm. Izzy's teeth clenched as she swallowed back the scream of pain that was fighting its way out. Fuck. She had dislocated her shoulder again.

The sound of stomping boots echoed against the tile walls of the community center, and they were getting closer. Shit. She was the busty coed. Izzy kicked violently, trying to free herself and pushing herself backwards away from…whatever the hell was coming for her. The steps were getting closer and closer, and then they stopped. They stopped right in front of her. Izzy's breath caught in her throat and her heart was pounding in time with the throbbing pain of her shoulder. She was preparing herself for some other sort of pain—a kick to the gut or a something—but then the oddest thing happened. Whoever it was stopped, untangled her foot, and helped her up. The hand gripping her was covered in a rough, synthetic feeling fabric. It was the guy in the mask.

"Who the fuck are you?" she muttered through a hiss of pain. He didn't say anything though. The only answer was the sound of him running away.

A few moments later the light slammed on again, drenching her in light and making her eyes ache. She glanced at her right arm. It was hanging limply sticking out at an odd angle. Izzy groaned and rolled her eyes. Fucking hell. Time to use the quick fix. Using her still functional arm she bent her elbow at a right angle towards her chest, and then rotated it outward. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed up hard until she heard the pop of it snapping back into place. "Fucking OW!" she growled, trying to keep her voice down. There were those, typical few seconds of searing pain and she waited for the white spots to clear her field of vision before moving again.

"Guys?" she shouted tentatively, continuing in the direction of Nathan and Kelly's voices. She came to a stop at the entrance to the locker room and…holy shit.

Nathan was alone, literally stuck to the wall, a pipe jutting out of his abdomen. He was just sort of hanging there like a scarecrow. "Holy shit, Nathan!" she shouted, rushing over to him. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, Ginger, I'm fit as a fiddle." Even with a penetrating stomach wound he found a way to be snarky.

Izzy began to lift her hand towards his face, but then stopped herself. She had been about to push some of the hair out of his face, but that was far too intimate. Nathan almost seemed to notice. His eyes flickered down to her hand and then back to her face, making her blink and take a small step back.

"I'm going to get you down," she whispered, grabbing one of his arms and pulling it over her shoulder. "You're going to be okay," she continued quietly, trying to convince herself more than anybody else. "You're going to be fine."

Nathan let out a pathetic little cough of a laugh as she pulled him off the pipe. "Of course I'm gonna be fine. I'm fuckin' immortal."

"You have a bloody pipe sticking out of your gut," she muttered. "I think I'm entitled to freak out a bit."

She propped him against the wall and guided him down slowly until he was sitting on the floor. It left an angry red smear of blood on the white tile behind him, like there was a giant arrow pointing at her slack, deflated friend. Izzy knelt down next to him and lightly pressed her fingers against the gaping wound in his gut. He hissed in pain, making her jerk back her hand it was being burned. "Sorry," she muttered under her breath, wiping her blood-stained fingers on the pants of her jumpsuit. She grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and pressed them against the wound. It was frightening how quickly they soaked through. It was all over her hands-the blood-and for once she wasn't running away from it. She could feel him staring at her, but couldn't bring herself to return the gaze.

"You've always got to go and make a mess, don't you," she said lightly, continuing to wipe up the blood. "You're a pain in the arse, you know that right?"

He let out another wheezing laugh and smiled, but the blood staining his teeth made it look sinister. "Always takin' care of me, aren't ya? You tryin' to pull some Florence Nightingale shit on me, Ginger? 'Cause if you want a piece of this, all you've really got to do is ask."

Izzy snorted lightly and scratched at the back of her neck. He was dying—he was actually bleeding out on the floor of the locker room—and he was still being so….Nathan. She knew in her head that he was going to be fine, that he was going to come back, but she was still sitting there and watching him die.

"So what happened?" she asked in a voice that was lower and harsher than usual.

He coughed a bit and rolled his eyes dramatically. "That mental girl shoved me onto a pipe. Then there was that bit where she almost killed Curtis and now she's runnin' around wearin' a Barry suit and confessin' to shit. It's a whole big thing—you probably don't want to bother with it."

Izzy abandoned the attempts to wipe up the blood. It just kept coming and the sodden pile of paper towels just kept getting bigger. Instead she sat back on the ground and scooted back until she was sitting next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder. He started sagging and leaning against her as the strength left his body.

"You know this whole dyin' thing," he murmured weakly, "I'm not really seein' the appeal."

She let out another forced laugh. "Yeah, not many people do."

He was getting so pale and ashen, it made her want to throw up. Fuck it. Izzy let out a heavy sigh and covered his hand with hers. The instant she did, his neck snapped straight and he turned to look at her. She gave a weak smile and nudged him a bit with her elbow. "See you on the other side, you idiot."

His face split into that now-familiar shit-eating grin of his. Izzy smiled back, but then something in Nathan's changed. The smile was still there, but the eyes glazed over. It was that same hollow, empty look that she had seen the day outside the community center. It was stupid, she knew he would be back in a few hours, but her eyes stated welling up again. She pulled the sleeve of that fucking orange jumpsuit over her hand and used it to wipe away the tears before closing his eyes.

Uncertain. That was the word to describe her life right now. Everything was so fucking uncertain. For someone who always kept such control over what went on in her life, over the people who came and went, it was kind of like she was drowning. Her future was in the hands of a psychotic shape-shifter with a major grudge. Any second could be her last one out of prison. And she was spending those last few moments sitting next to the temporarily lifeless corpse of the boy she fancied. Nathan. There was another big fucking uncertainty. Most of the time she thought all he wanted was a quick shag, but other times…..Other times she thought that maybe—just maybe—it wasn't just her in this whole mess.

Izzy dug into her pockets and pulled out her mobile, scrolling through her contacts until she got to Simon's number and hitting send. He was really the only one of them who could stop Lucy, who could save them. Hopefully he would have some answers. Hopefully he would make a small bit of her fucked up future a little less uncertain.

**So there's chapter 24. I hope you liked it. As always, I apologize for the spelling and grammar errors.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Seriously guys, please. I'm always happy to hear from you guys.**


	25. Damage Control

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, Adela, mrsbellamy, Ellen-may, Becca, and incitanemxx for reviewing. You have no idea how much I appreciate the input.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 25 – Damage Control

The next few hours were like a living hell. The ninth circle of hell. The worst of it was the not knowing. Between that call she had made to Simon and that unknown future call she was expecting, everything was in limbo. Her life, her future….everything—it was all dangling from a thin, fraying thread. And then there was Lucy who was standing there with a giant fucking pair of scissors with that creepy smile on her face.

Izzy was fighting hard to keep herself together in the middle of this whole huge mess, choking back the panic that was clawing at her throat. She had to keep it together. She had to fix this. Or at least fix everything that she could. Really it all came down to Simon, but she had her role to play too. She was spending what were possibly her last minutes of freedom up to her elbows in blood and puke, frantically scrubbing away any evidence of the disaster that had transpired. It was everywhere—the blood. If she was being honest, she was holding on by her fingertips, about to fall off the cliff and collapse in a heap at the bottom, but it was better than she would have done a few weeks ago. If there was any upside to having been subjected to all this shit, she came out the other side a little bit stronger. After all, when you break a bone, it's stronger after it heals—she had plenty of experience with that. Who knows, soon she might actually be a functional human being. And at least she had marigolds.

Usually experiences like that tended to end up in some kind of hazy blur where Izzy would act without realizing it like some kind of soulless automaton, but this time she stayed completely lucid through the whole thing. Each action was determined, because this time around she knew that it would go back to normal. Nathan would come back and the blood would be gone—she could erase it all, she could wipe the slate clean. Literally. But she was still pretending that it was paint—that it was just paint—and that he was just sleeping. It was easier for her that way.

Kelly had found her in the locker room next to a giant pile of bloody paper towels and Nathan's still lifeless body, trying her best to soak up every last bit of that red. The cleanup was down to the two of them seeing as Curtis and Alisha had seemingly evaporated and neither of them were answering their phones. They dragged Nathan out of the locker room and up the stairs to that balcony that had somehow become his bedroom and they burned those paper towels on the roof. The worst of it, though, was putting probation worker Sally back in the freezer. She had started to thaw, causing a thin sheen of condensation to form on the surface, and when they lifted her the skin slipped against the bone. It was like holding raw chicken, and it took all Izzy had not to gag. Before they slammed the lid shut, Izzy took one last glance at the woman, whose judging eyes were still frozen open and looking at her. The stare might not have been intended for her in the first place, but it still left her with that unbearable pang of guilt, even though it wasn't hers to feel in the first place. She knew that the image of those eyes would be burned into hr brain till the day she died. Kelly didn't seem all that bothered by it, though. After a quick utterance of 'I'm dead tired'—whose irony was far to poignant for Izzy to bring up—she had yawned heavily and wandered off back to her flat, leaving Izzy there alone. Well, not quite alone.

Anyways, when she woke up that morning, this was not how she had seen her day ending. A little bit of telly, some leftovers from the fridge, and then maybe a good book and a glass of red wine before falling asleep way to early for someone of her age bracket—that was the plan. Now instead of watching the telly with a bit of wine, she was leaning against the railing of the balcony, taking large sips from the bottle of vodka she had nicked from the kitchen and waiting for her dead friend to wake up again.

Izzy didn't sleep at all that night. Not that she had actually bothered trying to sleep in the first place. She had thought that getting that second call from Simon—the one where he told her that it was all sorted, that they would be okay—would provide her with some sort of respite, but even after she knew their secret was safe, her mind was still jumping around like a cricket on hot asphalt. That residual adrenaline was still there, coursing through her veins and lighting her nerve endings on fire. Her head knew that she was safe, but her body was still tingling, ready to run for her life at a moment's notice. But despite the internal revolt going on inside her body, she was perfectly calm in the exterior. Hell, to an onlooker she might have even looked bored. Over the years she had gotten good at hiding what was going on underneath the surface. All the shit she'd been through—sometimes her life had depended on it.

Throughout that long night her eyes stayed fixed on Nathan who was lying there on that dirty old mattress, waiting for him to snap out of it and say something idiotic. She could see the light change as they shifted from day to night, moving from the harsh black to the washed-out gray, and then finally to that soft yellow. The change in the color almost made it look like he was gradually coming back to life, but still nothing happened. She began to worry that the immortality bullshit was a one-time deal—a single do-over, a second chance—and that Nathan wouldn't be waking up again. As the seconds ticked by, her stomach twisted more and more until it turned into a fucking Gordian knot. And then with a loud gasp, like he had been holding his breath for just a little too long, Nathan's body convulsed and he snapped back into consciousness.

Izzy twitched slightly in surprise at the sudden movement, but quickly composed herself, staying quiet as he slowly and laboriously pushed himself up on his elbows, looking around and trying to figure out what was going on. Nathan frantically patted himself down, looking for any evidence of the gaping stomach wound he had been suffering from a few hours before until his eyes finally fell on Izzy. She offered up a wan smile and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

"About time you woke up," she said with artificial levity. "Nobody needs that much beauty sleep. Especially a lost cause like you."

The look of pain and fear on his face quickly morphed into a familiar smirk, though it lacked its usual luster. "Well good mornin' to you too, Ginger," he muttered quietly, still trying to catch his breath.

"So you didn't shit yourself this time," she continued, nudging him with the toe of her shoe before drawing her leg back up to her chest.

"Apparently not," he said, giving himself an appraising look. "So that's progress."

Izzy let out a weak but genuine laugh and nodded. "Well there's something to be proud of," she said through a small smirk. "You can't lose too many pairs of trousers. Maybe you should consider wearing those adult diapers. That would solve a shitload of problems."

She paused for a moment, expecting some sort of inappropriate snarky retort, but it didn't come. Nathan looked at her for a moment, and the smile on his face faded a bit, morphing into an expression of regret. It was an expression Izzy wasn't comfortable with. She tightened her arms around her knees and shimmied back a bit till the bars of the railing dug into her back.

"What?"

A grimace spread across Nathan's face and he shook his head in dismay. "That stuff I said about your….huge vagina," he murmured, sounding a bit ashamed of himself, "I didn't mean it. I'm sure it's a beauty."

Izzy let out a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of relief. For a minute there she had thought he was about to bring up the whole 'holding hands' thing, which was not something she was ready to discuss. Not until she was more sure of him anyway. She relaxed a bit and released her grip on her legs, extending them forward so the toes of her faded blue Converse were almost touching his leg.

"You're damn right it's a beauty," she shot back light-heartedly. "It's like a fucking Georgia O'Keeffe painting down there.

He furrowed his eyebrows, his forehead creasing in confusion. "Who the fuck is Georgia O'Keeffe?"

Izzy smirked and shook her head in a slightly patronizing way. "A famous artist who did paintings of fannies."

He blinked in surprise, his eyes widening and his mouth gaping in a way that made her smirk grow even more. It was his 'naked lady' face—the one that appeared every single time he even thought about nudity. "Really?" he asked, his mouth gaping slightly.

"Yep," she replied popping the 'p'.

"Huh," he mumbled absently. "Now that's a field trip I wouldn't have minded as a kid." But soon enough that vaguely dazed expression faded away and a shadow of the guilt returned. "Still, though," he continued, putting a hand on her nearby ankle and squeezing slightly. "I'm sorry, yeah?"

Izzy shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, trying to ignore the slight tingling feeling emanating from where he was touching her. "It's fine," she said shortly. "I mean, you died again. I figure that's punishment enough. Karma took care of this one."

Nathan exhaled sharply and Izzy could swear that she saw a little bit of relief in his face—like he was glad that things were all sorted. But there was still a question in the corner of her mind nagging at her, and she knew that it wasn't going to go away. It had to be asked. She tried to hold it back, but it forced its way out.

"Why did you say it?" she blurted out suddenly, clamming up a bit.

"What do you mean?"

Izzy cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You said I insulted the size of your cock or some shit like that," she said hesitantly. It was a statement, but it sounded more like a question than anything else.

Groaning loudly, Nathan collapsed back onto that ratty old blanket spread beneath him. "Do we really have to go into it, love?" he whined. "It wasn't really my finest hour."

"You don't have any fine hours," she shot back. "And yes, we do have to go into it."

Nathan pushed himself back up on his elbows and narrowed his eyes at her. She returned his gaze with a steely, determined glare and raised her eyebrows challengingly. He rolled his eyes when he realized she wouldn't let it go and nodded a bit. "Fine," he moaned, sounding like a child who had been refused candy. "Fine, I'll tell you. But you have to promise not to be mad." He pointed an accusing finger at her, making Izzy throw up her hands in submission. "I won't be mad," she said. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Blowing out a long breath, he nodded again before going on with his story. "Well I was walkin' into the toilets an' you were there. Well not you, obviously, but that mental girl lookin' like you. Anyways you—she—started gettin' undressed an' told me to take my trousers off so….." He let the statement taper off and a slightly smug, slightly embarrassed smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

It was like her heart dropped into her stomach. And then was being slowly eaten away by the acid. Izzy's eyebrows pulled together and a frown tugged at her lips while she was trying to make sense of what he was telling her. "So you actually thought that was me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, her voice thick with disbelief. "You thought that I'd just waltz into the toilets, take off my clothes, and have sex with you right then and there?"

Nathan gave a sheepish smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, it's not like I was expectin' it or anything, but I'm a bloke. When a beautiful girl walks up an' tells you to get naked, you just kinda go with it, you know? You don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that shit, especially when the gift horse looks like that." He gestured up and down her body, the cheeky grin playing on his lips widening slightly. "Remember you said you wouldn't be angry."

All of the sudden there was the rusty, metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. Listening to that stirring little story, Izzy had bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. It wasn't anger she was feeling—not anger at Nathan anyway. She was angry at herself for expecting it to get a different answer. There was a straight line between expectation and disappointment, which is why she tried so hard not to walk it. But she had gone and done it anyway, and now she was suffering the consequences. Nathan's expression changed when it took her so long to respond, shifting from overly confident to slightly concerned.

"So that makes me what?" she asked, her voice shaking for a millisecond before she steeled herself and adopted a more uninterested tone. "A casual shag? A fuck-buddy?"

Nathan blinked in shock and shook his head frantically. "No. That's not what—I mean, I wasn't— You're my mate, Izzy, I was just—"

"It's fine," Izzy said quickly, cutting him off and plastering a huge, fake smile on her face. "You answered both my questions. Let's just forget it—pretend it never happened. Which technically it didn't so…."

Her voice kind of drifted off, and she let the sentence hang in the air, leading into one of the more awkward silences of her life. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't quite put into words. It didn't matter. She could guess what those words would be anyway, and they weren't words she wanted to hear. Izzy cleared her throat and stood up suddenly. "Listen, I've got to go," she said, gesturing in the general direction of the entrance. "I'll bring over all the stuff I've got at my flat so you can get yourself set up over here." She took a few steps towards the steps, but paused before making her way down. She turned back to him with a smile—a genuine one this time—covering her face. "I'm glad you're not dead," she said softly before making her way down.

Nathan called after her, but she was already moving swiftly down the stairs and walking determinedly across the lobby towards the front entrance. She needed to go home. She needed a shower and some new clothes—some way to scrub herself clean and come out the other side feeling fresh and new. This was good, really. It was disappointing of course, but it was good that she knew where things stood. She and Nathan were mates—he was her best mate—and that wouldn't change. All she had to do was give up on the idea of being anything more than that and move on. It had been great before her little emotional epiphany, hadn't it? And it could be the same again. All it would take was a little time. Isabelle McCallum was nothing if not resilient, and she had bounced back from disappointments far greater than this one.

Izzy burst out the front doors of the community center and took a deep breath. The world was the same. She was the same. Things keep moving and you move on. It was the way of things. If you don't let things go you end up as one of those mental agoraphobes they do specials on. It was better that she found out now anyway, before she did anything potentially horrifically embarrassing.

The rest of the day was bizarrely normal. She had showed up, dropped off those few heavy bags filled with all of Nathan's shit, met up with the others, and did the same mind-numbingly boring shit they always had to do. She had avoided Nathan a bit, but nothing to cause suspicion. There was that same back-and-forth, that same bantering and bickering. It would all be okay in the end. All that was left was the waiting.

The interesting bit didn't come till the end of the day. It was time to get rid of probation worker Sally. They had had that argument before—the one where they decide how to get rid of the body. It was a bit disturbing, actually, the fact that Nathan could propose an acid bath and she would be able to groan and say 'not again' without any hint of irony. Eventually the settled on one of the original ideas: weighing her down and dropping her in the lake.

"How the fuck do we keep getting away with this shit?" Izzy muttered under her breath as they dragged the lifeless, plastic-wrapped corpse and pile of cinderblocks onto the small boat that seemingly magically appeared out of nowhere. Luck. That was the answer. An amazing amount of luck. It's not like she could say it was skill or any particular degree of stealth on their part. It was all luck.

There was a general silence that hung over the six of them as the paddled their way to the center of the lake. But that would probably only last as long as the Cornetto ice cream cone Nathan had found at the bottom of probation worker Sally's freezer.

"I gotta tell ya," Nathan said excitedly, looking between the lot of them, "I'm lovin' this whole immortality gig."

"You don't mind dying all the time?" Simon asked quietly, continuing to row the boat.

Nathan scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, it's scary. And it's painful. And my mum still can't get those stains out of my trousers, but there's a definite upside."

"You reckon?" Alisha asked doubtfully, nibbling on her own ice cream cone. "You'd have to get a job and work forever."

"You could go a hundred years without getting' laid," Curtis added.

"Everyone you love will die," Simon piled on in that despondent tone of his.

"Yeah, whatever!" Nathan shouted, clearly unhappy with all the negativity. "In six weeks that's all gonna change."

"Wot's 'appenin' in six weeks?" Kelly asked, shining the flashlight in his face.

Nathan's face spit into a wide grin. "We finish our community service."

"Well what are you going to do then?" Curtis asked, making a face at him.

"I'm going to join the circus!"

Izzy shoved her fist in her mouth to try to stifle the hysterical laughter burbling out of her mouth. "Are you fucking serious?" she demanded, raising her eyebrows at him. "Joining the circus? You're twenty-three, not eight. When's the last time you've seen the circus, anyway?"

"Shut up, Ginger," Nathan said, rolling his eyes and wagging his ice cream cone in her face. "This'll fuckin' work. They can throw knives at me, stick swords in me, shoot me in the face. People pay good money to see that shit, and then I'm makin' serious cash. And where the cash goes, the pussy follows. No offense ladies." Then he took a bite of ice cream for dramatic effect.

Izzy snorted again and shook her head. "It's nice to know you'll have enough money to pay for sex for the rest of your life," she said, snickering loudly. "I was worried your cock would shrivel up and die from disuse otherwise."

Nathan opened his mouth to make what was most likely a highly offensive and sexist retort, but Simon, who was glancing between the two of them anxiously, cut him off abruptly. "So who was it that saved you?" he asked, looking poignantly at Curtis.

Curtis paused for a moment and shook his head. "I don't know," he said quietly. "Some guy in a mask."

"I saw him as well," Izzy muttered. "It's almost like he wants to help us."

"Uh, why would 'e want ta 'elp oz?" Kelly asked.

Izzy bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders. "I really don't know. It's just a feeling I get. I mean, why else would he save Curtis?"

"The only reason I needed savin' is 'cause we're all fuckin' idiots!" Curtis burst out suddenly, erasing the speculative discussion Izzy was hoping to have.

"Don' start on me coz I wosn't eve there!" Kelly bit back. "Neitha wos Izzy!"

"It was me," Nathan said in a dramatic voice that made her instinctively roll her eyes. "I saved you."

The rest of the group gaped at him with a look somewhere between disbelief and awe that made Izzy rub at her forehead in frustration. Were they all really that dense?

"How?" Simon asked, his mouth gaping slightly.

That serious expression of Nathan's immediately broke into that insufferable smirk. "Come on! I'm jokin'! Seriously?"

Curtis scoffed loudly. "Still a prick."

"Someone else knows about us," Simon muttered in a low voice, looking seriously at each of them. "We need to find out who it is." His gaze stopped on Izzy. She pressed her lips together and gave a small, subtle nod. He picked up on it and did the same. It was strange, her and Simon. They seemed to e able to have these silent conversations where they could communicate whole paragraphs in the space of a nod, a darting of the eyes, or a jerk of the head. And that small, imperceptible nod was a strange sort of covenant between the two of them. They would find out who the guy in the mask was. Nathan, Curtis, Alisha, hell even Kelly, were the type to let it go unless it spelled trouble. Izzy, though….she had to know. Why had he stopped and helped her? She would have been just fine once those lights came on and she could untangle herself from whatever it was her foot was caught in, but whoever it was took the time to stop and help her. There was no sense to it, and when things didn't make sense she had to know _why_ they didn't make sense. And she suspected Simon was much the same way.

That silent conversation was complete in about a second, because before either she or Simon could say anything else, Nathan was groaning loudly and theatrically. "Haven't we done enough for one week?" he asked in a tired-sounding voice. "We almost killed another probation worker. You—" he poked Simon hard in the chest "—you had your first blow job. I died. Again. It's nearly the weekend—let's just dump her and worry about that stuff next week! Or maybe even the week after that."

Izzy rolled her eyes heavily, but stayed quiet.

"Right, this'll do," Curtis muttered, pulling up his oars and stopping rowing.

"Alright," Nathan muttered, shoving his ice cream cone in his mouth for safekeeping while they pushed the body over the edge of the boat.

Izzy shifted so that she could get a good grip on the still-frozen solid corpse of probation worker Sally. She, Simon, Curtis, and Nathan heaved the body over the side so that it did an unceremonious flip and splashed into the lake with a noise so loud, it made Izzy cringe.

"You see that," Nathan said waving his ice cream cone around with that unbearable smirk plastered over his face. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

By the time they made it back to shore, that slight feeling of gnawing anxiety had finally left Izzy. By all appearances, they were in the clear. Alisha and Curtis wandered off immediately, probably for some victory sex or some shit like that—it did seem to be the basis of their entire relationship—and Kelly stomped off as well, eager to get home and get some sleep, leaving her, Nathan, and Simon standing there. Izzy looked over the water, saying another silent 'I'm sorry' to the corpse of probation worker Sally. She hadn't liked the woman all that much, but she hadn't deserved to die. Not that she blamed Simon either. It was just an incredibly fucked up situation that had a very unfortunate end. And then an idea occurred to her.

"You know what we should do?" she said, turning to Simon excitedly. "We should take her credit card and book her onto a flight to the same place as Tony."

He blinked, but then an expression of understanding flashed across his face, followed by a small smile. "That way the police will think she's just following him!" he grinned back. "I've still got her credit card! I can do that!"

Izzy watched fondly as he ran off back to his flat. This time it was less like watching an adorable puppy, and more like watching a little brother. Simon was growing on her.

All of the sudden she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. Izzy spun around to see Nathan looking at her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and an uncomfortably earnest expression on his face. "So are we good?" he asked in an uncertain voice. "With the stuff….and the things?"

Izzy let out a soft snort and nodded. "Yeah, Nathan," she said reassuringly. "We're good with the stuff and the things." She walked forwards and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling a bit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Izzy turned away from him and started walking home. It would be fine. It would all be fine. It was already getting closer to normal. It would look better in the morning. By the time she got back to her flat, she was ready to collapse from exhaustion. She jimmied the door to her flat and burst inside, almost tripping over her own feet as she stumbled in. She was ready to collapse onto the bed and fall asleep. No dinner, no changing into her pajamas, she was ready to pass out. She removed her bag from where it was draped over her shoulder and began dragging her feet towards the bed, but before she could get there, something else caught her eye.

It was that crappy old card table of hers. There was something there that shouldn't be. Squinting into the darkness of her flat, she moved closer to see that there was a note lying there. It was that same stenciling she had seen on the note telling them to go to Nathan's grave, only this time it read 'stop looking'.

Izzy went cold with fear, and immediately wheeled around, looking in every corner for some sign of an intruder. Finally her eyes fell on the window leading to the fire escape which was wide open. She approached it slowly, waiting for something to jump out and attack her. But nothing did. She crept forward slowly and pulled the window shut, glancing around outside for the intruder. There was nothing outside, but when her focus shifted, she noticed something caught in the latch. It was a tiny torn piece of black synthetic fabric. Her breath caught in her throat as the rubbed that fabric between her fingers. It had the same feel as the hand that had helped her up not 24 hours ago. It was the guy in the mask. Izzy exhaled sharply and shook her head. "What. The. Fuck."

So much for a good night's sleep.

**So there's chapter 25. I hope it was okay and that Nathan was in character. I wanted him to be kind of confused by Izzy's reaction because he doesn't know that she likes him yet, hence the 'stuff' and 'things'. And don't hate me too much for the Nathan-Izzy 'fight'. I know you guys are waiting for the kiss. It will be in just a few more chapters, I swear!**

**Please review, you guys. I know it might be taking a bit, but it'll be worth it, I swear. Anyways, if I make it to 175 reviews I'll be over the moon.**

**P.S. Phaex, you're a wizard. You totally called the Nathan/Izzy conflict in this chapter!**


	26. Family Reunion

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, Adela, WonderlandJunkie, Lady Shagging Godiva, Sunflowers in Moscow, LitlleGee, witchbaby300, ChaygraceDaya, and incitanemxx for reviewing. You have no idea how much I appreciate the input.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 26 – Family Reunion

It was a rare thing that they were experiencing. You might even call it a miracle of nature, like the Aurora Borealis or phosphorescent algae or a solar eclipse. Except it was probably rarer than any of those things. It was a beautiful, sunny day on the Estate. Usually the place had that dark, dingy, washed-out look characteristic of a post-apocalyptic hellscape. Or, well, Beijing. This morning though, there was no overcast, cloudy sky, no smog, nothing like that. Sun was spilling over everything, soaking the dusty concrete in a luminous yellow.

Given the fleeting nature of this phenomenon, the six of them found themselves on the roof, reveling in the temporary break from depressing, but Izzy's mind wasn't on the weather. No, it was occupied with much more serious things. She was lying on the sofa, feet dangling over the armrest, earphones shoved in her ears, with her jumpsuit pulled down to her waist, leaving her in a tank top with her shoulders open to the sun. Her eyes were closed, but the light shone through so that she could see the pattern of veins on the inside of the lids. There was an outward appearance of calm to her, such that any observer would have thought that she was inches away from falling asleep, lounging about in the sun. But that was not the case.

Izzy hadn't told anybody about the note yet. It had been in her pocket ever since she had picked it up off that card table a few days ago. She had folded and unfolded it so many times that the paper at the creases was beginning to wear through. A few more days and it would probably fall apart in her hands. But she still didn't tell anyone about it, mostly because she didn't know what it meant yet.

'Stop looking'. That's what it had said. The words themselves were easy enough to understand, but the meaning…that was something else entirely. There were so many factors to consider. How had the guy in the mask known where she lived? Why was he fixating on the three of them? And then there was the biggest mystery of them all. How had he known that Nathan was alive? Nathan had reanimated while he was in the coffin. He had been dead, buried, gone. There was no possible way of knowing that he was alive. Not unless that prick in the mask could see the future. For a second she thought that that idea was ludicrous—how could anybody see into the future?—but it was no more ludicrous than any of the other fucked-up things that had happened to them in the past few weeks. Nothing was impossible now. And having accepted the idea that this prick already knew everything that was happening and everything that was going to happen, that left one more question to be answered. Why was he bothering with them?

'Stop looking'. She had considered for a moment that the guy in the mask—whoever the hell he was—might be somebody that they knew. It seemed like he was trying to help them, to protect them, so some kind of personal relationship made sense. But anybody who knew her at all would know that leaving a note like that would ensure that she would never stop looking. What with her stubbornness and a slightly obsessive personality, this was something she was not going to let go. Not ever. Izzy slipped her hand back into the pocket of her jumpsuit and let her fingers close around the note, rubbing the now soft, cloth-like paper between her thumb and forefinger. Nope. She was definitely not going to let this go. That note was staying in her pocket until it disintegrated into dust.

Pushing all those swirling thoughts aside, Izzy took a deep breath. She needed to enjoy this moment. Her brain hadn't allowed her a moment's peace since she had gotten that note. Each quiet moment was immediately rendered chaotic by the constant speculation. It was the same reason she could never start mystery novels without first carving out several uninterrupted hours. She wouldn't stop reading until she had finished the entire thing. She just had to know. But in that moment on that roof with the sun shining on her face and good music blasting in her ears, she needed to spend a bit of time not thinking. Otherwise her brain might explode.

After about three minutes of actively thinking about nothing, something cloth hit her in the face and blocked out that little bit of light seeping through her eyelids. And it smelled fucking terrible. Izzy ripped the cloth from her face and sat bolt upright, squinting into the bright sunlight assaulting her retinas. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light, the image that confronted her was not one that she had been expecting. Nathan was standing near the edge of the roof wearing nothing but his pants and applying sunscreen in a way that could only be described as borderline pornographic.

Izzy felt her nose wrinkle and mouth drop open a bit. Seriously? That time at her flat when he pranced around her in a similar state of undress, she had actively made herself not look at him, but this time she couldn't look away. The way he was applying his sunscreen, it was like looking at a horrific, gruesome train accident. You want to look away, but your morbid curiosity just won't let you. Nathan noticed her looking at him and, ignoring the expression of borderline disgust etched into her face, shot her a theatrical wink and blew her a kiss. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but that just made him smile even wider before he turned around and stuck his arse in the air like a fucking baboon presenting. If that baboon decided to rub sunscreen all over itself in as graphic a way possible.

Realizing that the fabric that fell on her face was Nathan's most likely soiled jumpsuit, Izzy cringed and threw the thing at him so that the orange fabric landed at his feet. "Put some clothes on, Nathan," she groaned loudly. "The reflection of the sun off your pasty Irish arse is going to blind drivers and cause traffic accidents. You're a fucking public safety hazard."

"Aw, come on," he whined, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Who says you can't have an ASBO and an all-over tan?"

Izzy shut her eyes and collapsed back onto the sofa again. "You can't tan, you idiot. You'll go from zero to skin cancer in the space of twenty minutes."

"Uh, _wrong_," Curtis moaned, clearly none to happy with the sad excuse for a striptease.

Izzy let out an involuntary snicker, imagining the look on Curtis's face, but her amusement was cut short by the sound of a loud whistle from the sidewalk below. "I'm lookin' for Nathan," a distinctly male, Irish voice rang out. Izzy opened her eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows, curiosity peaked. Clearly Nathan was as well, because he had stopped fondling himself and peered over the edge.

"Why?" Nathan asked hesitantly. "Why are you lookin' for him? Who are you?"

At that Izzy scrambled to her feet and moved forwards so that she was standing next to Nathan. There was a bloke down on the sidewalk, about their age, with short, cropped hair, a tattoo on his neck, and what looked like stud earrings. Not a social worker, not a cop. So who the fuck was he? The guy—whoever he was—seemed a little hesitant to answer, and Izzy got the distinct feeling that things were about to get a little awkward. And the next words proved her right.

"I'm his brother!"

Izzy blinked in shock and turned to look at Nathan, who was still staring at the guy on the street. "I didn't know you had a brother," she said in a loud whisper.

"That's because I haven't got one," he mumbled back. "I haven't got a brother!" he shouted. "I'm a classic example of an only child!"

"Not anymore!" the figure below yelled back.

"Well how is that even possible?" Nathan returned.

"Well, Nathan," Izzy muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "when a man and woman love each other very much, they rip off each other's clothes and—"

Nathan waved one of his hands in her face, gesturing for her to shut up in time to hear the bloke—Nathan's brother—shout, "We've got the same dad!"

Nathan let out a small scoff. "And you're sure about that?"

"He didn't tell you about me?" the bloke demanded, sounding a bit hurt.

Nathan snorted loudly in disbelief. "It must have slipped his mind!"

The bloke swore absently and kicked at the railing overlooking the lake. Izzy pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. When would shit ever start to get boring? She would kill for boring. Well, not technically. There sure as hell had been enough killing already. But now all of the sudden their community service had been turned into an episode of the Jeremy Kyle show. When would it fucking stop?

"Yeah, okay," Nathan said suddenly, interrupting her internal whining. "Hey, I've always wanted a brother! Hold on a second, I'll be right down." He spun around to face the rest of the group with a wide smile on his face. "I'll be seein' you pricks later. I'm goin' down to the pub to get a drink with my brand-fuckin'-new little brother."

Izzy snorted and shook her head fondly. "He's not a puppy, Nathan."

"Shut it, Ginger," he said, snapping his fingers in her face and making her swat his hand away. "I'm fixin' to have some primo male bondin' time," he continued, almost wistfully. "It'll be like 'Savin' Private Ryan' except without all the shootin' and the dyin' and the cryin' and shit."

"Uh, what about your community service?" Alisha drawled out from her position in one of the chairs, with her feet propped up on the table. "What the fuck are we gonna tell the probation worker?"

"Well I guess you'll just have to think of something," he drawled back before practically skipping towards the exit whistling some made-up tune.

"Don't you think you're forgetting something?" Izzy shouted after him, making him turn around with a curious expression on his face. She rolled her eyes heavily and grabbed the dirty, orange fabric and threw it at his face so that it landed on his head. He pulled it off, making his curly hair stick out every which-way and shot her a cheeky smile. "What? It's not clothing optional? What kind of world are we livin' in if a bird can't flash her tits recreationally?"

Without saying a word, Izzy leaned down and picked up his shoes, chucking each one of them at his head, making him throw up his arms and let out several unmanly shrieks. "Alright! Alright! Jesus!" he shouted, frantically pulling the jumpsuit back on. "I'm goin'! Keep your knickers on!"

As soon as Nathan started going down the stairs, Izzy moved back to the edge of the roof and looked over the side. The bloke was still there, leaning over and resting his forehead on the railing. There was something quite angsty in his posture. It took about two minutes for Nathan to pop out the front door wearing his street clothes. She couldn't really hear what they were saying, but they both smiled. The still-nameless bloke—Nathan's brother—stood up straight and Nathan draped an arm over his shoulder as they ambled off together.

Izzy smiled after them. It was about time something good happened for Nathan. He was all smiles and raunchy jokes and inappropriate behavior, but that didn't change all the shit he had been through. He was homeless, he had a shit relationship with his dad and a…questionable one with his mum. Plus he kept fucking dying. She saw it sometimes when he thought nobody was looking—it wasn't anything obvious, just a look around the eyes. But when she saw him like that it was like that twelve-year-old on a sugar rush was replaced by a much older individual—older than his actual twenty-three years. It never lasted long, leaving as quickly as it came. The others didn't really see it. Sometimes she thought maybe Kelly did, but she had an unfair advantage after all, what with the whole telepathy thing. Seeing him like that, though, it gave her a hollow sort of feeling. She wanted to kiss him hard and make it all go away. Ugh. This whole 'just mates' thing was hard. She would get there. It was just going to take longer than she had initially planned.

At least she had a distraction—a fucking vile one, but a distraction none the less. Izzy cringed inwardly as she fished what felt the hundredth shopping cart out of the shallow muck of the lake near the community center. Why the fuck were people throwing shopping carts into the lake anyway? What possible upside could there be? Plus those massive rubber boots and overalls were really bloody uncomfortable and they made her sweat an obscene amount. It was like wearing a giant, misshapen condom. And now her boot was stuck in the mud. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"This is fucking disgusting," Alisha groaned, curling her lip at an old, grimy plastic bag dangling for one of her gloved fingers.

Izzy tried yanking her foot out of the mud, but it wouldn't budge and kept making this revolting squelching noise. When she finally freed herself, she stumbled backwards, splashing water into her face and almost collapsing backwards into the water. "Great," she muttered angrily, spitting out some of the water that had splashed into her mouth. "Now I've got fucking dysentery."

She actually heard Simon laugh a little bit and turned to shoot him a smile, but before she twisted all the way around, the probation worker swaggered towards them twirling his ID around his finger like usual. Izzy had expected him to keep walking past them what with all the 'not giving a shit', but he actually stopped in his tracks and eyed them all suspiciously. "Where's Nathan?"

Huh. He had actually bothered learning their names.

"H—he's in the locker room," Simon lied quickly. Izzy turned to look at him. Well, this was surprising. He had a completely neutral expression. No sign of lying. Simon was pretty fucking good. Not quite to her standards of lying of course, but still good.

The probation worker didn't seem as convinced as she did though, letting out a loud scoff. "Well that's funny," he drawled sarcastically, "because I was just in there. Didn't see 'im."

"He 'ad a family emergency," Kelly shot back.

"What kind of emergency?" the probation worker deadpanned.

"His brother came to see him," Curtis added.

The probation worker looked at the lot of them like they were idiots. "An' how is that an emergency?"

"He's got cancer," Alisha sneered back. Izzy had to clear her throat loudly and turn around to hide the laugh. Somehow Alisha seemed to be growing on her as well.

"Oh, really?"

"Stage Four Hodgkin's Lymphoma," Izzy said, widening her eyes and giving him an earnest look. "The doctor's aren't very hopeful."

"Yeah," Kelly continued, piling onto the mountain of lies being spun. " 'Is brotha woz like cryin' an' shit. It woz really sad. I fink 'e needed a drink."

"Oh," the probation worker said, plastering on a fake smile. "So Nathan's takin' hm to the pub, I see?"

There was a collective nod from the entire group, but the probation worker kept looking at them all with a doubtful expression.

"His brother ain't got cancer, has he?"

"He might have," Alisha snarked back, tossing the muck-filled plastic bag in his direction.

"He should feel for lumps," Simon added suddenly. "I—in his testicles."

The probation worker just looked at them blankly for a moment before wandering off back in the direction of the community center. As soon as he was out of earshot, Izzy bust out laughing. "Seriously, Simon?" she snorted, vaguely kicking some water in his direction. "That was fucking brilliant." He shot her one of those short, awkward smiles of his and went back to digging around in the water.

Izzy prodded around in the water looking for more shit to fish out of the water. What was the point of this? She was all for no pollution and no littering and all that stuff, but in a place like this there was really no point. The old condoms and empty beer cans they took out of the lake would just be replaced by more old condoms and empty beer cans. Digging through the lake was like a microcosm of the world of the twenty-something fuck-up. It was all drinking and debauchery and recreational drug use, only it got to rot a bit before you uncovered it again. Looking at it was enough to make her reconsider several major life choices. Something hooked onto her finger and she yanked it out of the water. A bra? How the fuck could you lose something like that in the lake?

That shift took fucking forever to end. Maybe it was the disgusting nature of the task, maybe it was because without Nathan there unnervingly quiet, but by the time she found herself back in the locker room in her clothes, she felt like she had aged at least five years. It was like her brain was subconsciously counting every single second, a countdown till she got to leave, and of course keeping track of the time just made it seem that much longer. And she had missed Nathan. He was gone for one bloody shift and she had _missed _him. Izzy was not used to missing people. She was used to being alone and not giving a shit. It was because she was bored. That had to be the reason she missed him, otherwise she really was a hopeless cause, and that was something she refused to be.

Grabbing her bag out of her locker, Izzy slammed her locker door closed and leaned her head against the cool metal of the door. She needed a fucking drink. Or maybe a lobotomy. Anything to get her out of this pathetic, whiney state of mind. A distraction—that was what she needed. And lucky for her she had one sitting right there in her pocket. Izzy rolled against the locker so that her back was leaning against them and fished out the note she had shoved back in the pocket of her jeans. She looked across the room at Simon, who was still getting his things out of his locker.

"Hey Simon?" she called out, making him stand up straight and look expectantly at her. She pushed herself off the lockers and took a couple of steps towards him. "Do you still have that note? The one telling us to go to Nathan's grave?"

His brows drew together in an expression of mild confusion, but he nodded in assent. "Yeah, I've still got it. Why?"

She bit her lip and cleared her throat. "There's something I should probably show you." She took a few more steps forward and handed him the worn piece of paper. He gave her a curious look and took it, unfolding it carefully. Once the paper opened in his hands, his eyes widened and snapped to hers. "Where did you get this?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

"It was in my flat," she said, readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "After we got rid of Sa—of the second probation worker, I got home and somebody had broken in. They didn't take anything, but they left that on the table. It looks a lot like the note telling us to find Nathan, doesn't it?"

Simon spun around and rifled through his locker, shoving aside his copy of '2001: A Space Odyssey' before pulling out a similarly worn piece of paper and laying both of the notes out on the bench in front of them. The two of them squatted down on opposite sides and looked carefully at them both, comparing them.

"Yeah, you see that," Izzy said, tapping on the papers. "The 'o' has a sort of uneven pattern, like the stencil was nicked or something."

"It's the same on both papers," he said earnestly. "The same person wrote both of these notes." He looked up at her with an expression between excitement and fear. "Who do you think wrote it?"

Izzy sighed heavily and rocked back so that she was sitting on the ground and dropped her bag next to her. "My money's on the guy in the mask. I found this—"

She was about to tell him about her theory, as ridiculous as it sounded, but was cut off by the sound of her mobile beeping inside her bag. She held up a single finger, indicating for Simon to hold on a moment while she dug around in her bag. When she finally managed to pull it out, there were three missed calls and one message, all from Nathan. She quickly punched in her password and pressed the receiver to her ear. After a few moments of static, Nathan's voice picked up.

"_Hey, Ginger_," his voice said in a tone of forced casualness. "_Me and my little brother were out for a pint and found ourselves in a bit of a…situation. No need to bore you with the details, but I seem to have been arrested._" Izzy let out a spluttering cough. She hadn't been expecting that, but Nathan seemed to anticipate her reaction. "_Now don't go worryin' and shit_," he continued. "_You don't need to get your knickers in a twist. It was all a misunderstandin' really. But I'll be needin' ya to go into that bag near my bed and get my ID so these fuckers stop thinkin' I'm a terrorist and let me go. Anyways, see ya soon! Cheers!"_

"Shit," she hissed under her breath at the sound of a loud click as he hung up. No exposition, no explanation. Izzy exhaled sharply and brought her fist up to her mouth. Un-fucking-believable. The call was placed twenty minutes ago. Part of her wanted to leave it a few hours so he could stew in the police station, but who was she kidding? That was what friends do, right? Bail each other out? She cleared her throat and looked back at Simon, who was still studying the notes eagerly. "Look, I've got some shit I've got to sort out," she said, poking him with the toe of her shoe. "Talk later."

He nodded absently and waved her off. Izzy stood up and let out a light snort. Simon probably wouldn't have even realized she was gone. Those notes—he lived for that sort of shit. And she did too, but it was like Nathan had said earlier. He wouldn't fair well in prison. Not because his beautiful face, but because within about twenty minutes he would find the head of some sort of gang leader and piss him off in some way or another. His beautiful face probably wouldn't be so beautiful anymore after having the shit kicked out of him

How the fuck did she always manage to get herself roped into this sort of shit? That was the question in the forefront of her mind as she pushed open the door of the police station. It was her fault, really, for just being there all the time. He expected it now, and suddenly bailing on him would be changing things. She didn't want things to change, she just wanted them to go back to fucking normal. And he needed someone to help him sort out his shit, otherwise he would self-destruct. I mean, he's out of her sight for a few hours and he gets himself arrested? And he forgot his fucking ID? Sometimes she wondered if Nathan even knew how to tie his shoes.

Izzy walked up to the front desk and rested her hands on the counter, folding them properly. "I'm here for Nathan Young," she said in the least confrontational voice possible. "He was brought in earlier today and needed someone to bring in his identification."

The woman behind the desk gave her a bored look and held up a finger indicating for her to wait before wordlessly picking up a rather big pile of papers and rifling through them. It took about ten minutes for her to leisurely turn the pages. Izzy took her hands off the table and shoved them deep in the pockets of her worn leather jacket so that the woman couldn't see her white knuckles as she clenched her fists in frustration. Eventually the woman stopped on a paper and let out a small scoff. "It looks like your boyfriend was released a half an hour ago," she said dully, snapping the file shut. "His dad came and picked him up or something."

Great. Izzy shut her eyes and clenched her teeth together. "Do you know where he went?"

"Nope," she said through a yawn, turning back to her computer and starting up a game of Minesweeper. "Once they're released, they're not our problem."

Izzy sighed heavily and checked her phone. No new messages. She shook her head in frustration and punched his number into her phone to yell at him a bit, but then she heard the lyrics of 'Baby Got Back' ringing out from the hallway to her left. She quickly ended the call, cutting off the song, and walked in that direction only to see Nathan sitting in the hallway on one of the old, plastic chairs next to a man with rather wild looking hair and a bit of blood on his temple. It was the man she had seen at his funeral and at the bowling alley before that—his dad. Nathan certainly didn't look like he was happy to be there, but at least he and his father were talking. She took a few steps in his direction to find out what the hell had happened at that pub, but before she could there was an explosion of sound.

"You know what!" Nathan shouted at the top of his lungs, "He's better off _not_ knowin' ya! I wish—I wish I was him!"

The man stood up and stared at Nathan for a second before wordlessly turning around and walking briskly away from Nathan with an angry, bitter expression on his face. He was walking so fast that Izzy had to dodge out of his way so as not to be barreled over. He glanced at her for a moment and there was a small flicker of recognition, but he just pushed past and stormed out.

"That's right dad, walk away with your tiny little legs, you _fuckin'_ midget!"

Nathan leaned against the peeling plaster of the wall behind him and sighed heavily. Then when he turned to take one more look at his absentee father, his eyes fell on Izzy and widened in shock. Realizing what she had just seen, he shut his eyes and rubbed at his forehead in embarrassment before leaning his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. Izzy stood completely still, like she had grown roots. It was like she had seen beyond the curtain—been exposed to something she shouldn't. After Nathan died the first time she had gone through all his things, packing them up to bring home with her, and she had seen him prance around in his pants like a fucking ballerina. This, though—this was the first time she had ever felt like she invaded his privacy. Eventually she managed to summon up the willpower to move and plopped down in the chair next to him—the one that a few minutes earlier had been filled by there dad.

She didn't say a word—there was nothing she really could say—and for a while Nathan didn't either.

Finally he lifted his head and leaned back against the wall again, turning so that he was looking at her profile as she continued staring forward at the dingy grey wall. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked in a tired voice.

Izzy dug in her bag and pulled out his ID, waving it around a bit before placing it in his hand. He let out a weak snort, clearly having forgotten calling her. He blew out a long breath, and looked at her like he wanted to say something.

"Don't go feelin' sorry for me an' all that girly shit," he muttered in a slightly hostile voice, jerking his thumb in the direction of his now departed father. "It's no surprise. He always fucks off like that. I'm surprised it took him this long to get around to it."

Izzy let out a humorless snort. "Why would I feel sorry for you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. He gave her a curious look that made her shake her head in response. "You really didn't think you had the monopoly on shit dads, did you? Mine didn't stick around long enough to give me a fucking name. Though I guess it was considerate of him to fuck off that early. I never had to put up with him."

A flashy smile covered his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "What a pair we make, huh? You're dad's invisible, mine's a prick. And daddy issues on a girl are fuckin' hot."

She folded her arms tight across her chest and studied his face. She didn't buy the cheeky commentary for a second. "What the hell happened with your dad?' she asked gently.

Nathan scoffed and shook his head. "Nothin'." Izzy gave him a doubtful look that made him roll his eyes in response. "You remember that file you talked about? The 'Shit We Don't Talk About' file? Well that's where this is goin', so why don't you back the fuck off, alright?"

Izzy bit her lip and smiled mirthlessly. "Fine—fine, I get it," she said in a low voice, hauling herself to her feet and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I'll leave it. You can sort out your shit on your own and be an international man of mystery and all that crap. But next time you want me to back the fuck off, don't call first."

She stood there a few moments, waiting for a response. He shot her a short, remorseful glance, but it lasted only about a half a second and then he was back to staring at the wall in front of him. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she turned away from him and began walking out towards the entrance. She didn't blame Nathan for being a moody little bastard. It was a severely fucked up situation, it was bound to make anyone act like a twat—especially when they were pre-disposed towards twat-itude.

There was one little problem, though. She was jealous. The fact that his prick of a dad had neglected to mention a brother…that was a mind fuck. But she didn't have anybody. If a mystery relative popped up out of nowhere, she wouldn't be anything but happy.

All of the sudden she heard someone call out from the other end of the hall. "Hey, Izzy?" Nathan shouted from his seat. "We're still good, right."

She shut her eyes and exhaled sharply, pausing a moment before she opened them again. "Yeah, Nathan. We're good."

She felt his eyes on her back as she walked away, but she didn't turn around. If she wanted things to get back to normal, she had to stop turning around. And then maybe one day she would stop wanting to.

**So there's chapter 26. Once again, I hope you like it. The next chapter will be the one where they're at the club.**

**So I know this chapter kind of makes it look like their relationship is going to shit, but I swear it's not. I just know that if Nathan realized that she saw the interchange with his dad, he would totally shut off and backtrack. And Izzy might get kind of pissed about it, but she also understands why he's doing and saying these things. For me the whole 'we're good' thing just demonstrates how they fundamentally understand each other. Except in that one little annoying way :-P. But we're getting there.**

**Thanks so much again for the reviews in the last chapter! If I could get to 180 after this one I would be ecstatic.**


	27. Green-Eyed Monster

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, Adela, Bethh, Sunflowers in Moscow, ChatgraceDaya, Becca, ChaygraceDaya, and incitanemxx for reviewing. You have no idea how much I appreciate the input.**

**And Bethh, we are seriously so close to getting there.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

**Also, I posted a picture of Izzy's club look on my profile.**

**Full disclosure: This really isn't my best chapter. I wrote and wrote and felt like I was just going in circles. I kind of got sick of it and had a 'screw it' moment and posted it.  
**

Chapter 26 – Green-Eyed Monster

When Izzy woke up that morning, she was in a pretty terrible mood. It wasn't for any particular reason, she was just pissed. Pissed at her alarm clock for waking her up so goddamn early, pissed at the fucking baby from 6C for crying through the night, pissed at life in general. And quite frankly being forced to do pointless, futile chores while wearing a smelly orange jumpsuit spraying weeds with pesticide was going to improve the situation all that much. Why the fuck were they spraying pesticide anyway? It's not like there was any plant material on the Estate to begin with. All they ended up doing was spraying concrete. Really fucking useful. And the day got particularly annoying when the ultimate source of all her frustration was standing next to her, poking her in the arse with a pesticide sprayer.

Izzy had been trying to ignore Nathan ever since she had gotten to the community center. Not outright ignore him per se, but she had been trying to distance herself from him a bit. After what had happened at then police station, him snapping at her and just generally being a dick when all she did was try to help him, she had decided that it was time to set boundaries, draw the line, or whatever. When it came to relationships, there were specific things you can and can't do depending on the level of intimacy between two people. It had occurred to her that she was doing all of the things a girlfriend would do—feeding him, taking care of him, and all that shit. Not that there was anything wrong with that in general, but it just wasn't working for her anymore. Every time she tried, she always ended up feeling like crap. There needed to be rules—boundaries—but that was proving to be a bit of a problem. Nathan hated rules. Actually, no. He didn't put in enough energy to hate rules. He simply ignored them.

Izzy stumbled forwards a bit as he smacked her in the arse for what felt like the twentieth time. Gritting her teeth, she took off the gas mask she was wearing and glowered at him. "Nathan, I swear to God if you do that one more time, I will feed you this pesticide. It's actually an appropriate end for you, seeing as you're a pest and all."

"Aw, come on Ginger," he said, shooting her a cheeky smile. "It's only a bit of fun."

Normally Izzy would have come up with a clever retort and they would spend at least fifteen minutes coming up with increasingly ridiculous banter, ending with her smacking him over the head, but this time she didn't engage. She just put the mask back over her face and went back to work. Part of her thought that Nathan noticed the difference. She could have sworn she saw a flicker of disappointment cross his face. It wasn't something she had to think about for long though, because a few moments later Alisha called them over to look at something on her phone. For a second Izzy thought it was going to be another of those goddamn youtube cat videos everybody seems to be forwarding to each other all the time, but the image that flickered across the screen made her blink in shock.

It was the guy in the mask. She had a full two minutes of him on video, running about on rooftops and doing flips and all sorts of shit like that. What was it called? Parcour? Whatever it was, it was fucking awesome. Izzy pulled her mask off so that it was resting under her chin and let out a disbelieving snort. "Holy shit," she whispered under her breath in a disbelieving tone.

She could feel Nathan rolling his eyes from his position behind her. "That's not so special," he muttered hostilely. Then the guy jumped off the building, doing a double flip and landing directly on his feet three floors below. Izzy turned to Nathan with raised eyebrows, and he just rolled his eyes in response and walked off.

"Who is this guy?" Curtis asked, leaning forwards to get a good look at the tiny screen.

"Dunno," Alisha said curiously. "He's followin' me."

"That's the guy from the community center," Izzy said. "The one that saved me and Curtis."

Simon pulled off his mask as well. "Izzy and I—we think he sent the not telling us to go to Nathan's grave."

"Oh, so the two of you are a 'we' now?" Nathan drawled sarcastically, pointing between her and Simon. "Is it strictly a professional thing, what with all the crime solvin' and shit, or should we be expectin' a June weddin'?"

Izzy just rolled her eyes and flicked him off before turning back to the others. "Does 'e know about our powas?" Kelly asked, becoming slightly anxious.

"As far as I can tell," Izzy replied, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally. "I would assume so, given everything else he seems to know."

"He kinda reminds me of the guy who rescued me," Nathan said absently from somewhere behind them. Izzy felt her teeth clench instinctively as she slowly turned around to face him. And Nathan, of course, was standing there completely oblivious to the fact that they were all staring daggers at him.

"Uh, did I miss something?" Alisha said contemptuously.

Nathan looked up at them and blinked, ignoring the incredulous expression on all of their faces. "Oh, yeah," he said through a yawn. "I got surrounded by a whole bunch of those virtue virgins, right?" he drawled out, absently waving the sprayer at them. "I was about to kick three kinds of shit out of them—girls included—and this fella swoops in on his BMX all dramatic-like and gives me a backie. The guy can pedal, I'll give him that."

Izzy rubbed at her forehead, actively trying not to scream in frustration. "Why the fuck are we only hearing about this now?" she asked angrily. "It changes the entire bloody timeline of this thing."

He shrugged casually. "I didn't think it was relevant."

Curtis scoffed loudly. "Hold on, a mysterious, masked guy appears out of nowhere and saves you? How is that not relevant?"

Nathan stood there, slightly slack-jawed, taking in all of the angry stares. "Alright, I'm sorry," he whined. "I forgot. I was a bit busy dyin' if you'll recall."

"We need to find him," Simon said earnestly, cutting off what looked like another angry retort fm Curtis.

"Look, if he wants to dick around trying to be a superhero, let him," Alisha said in a vaguely frustrated voice. "Who had time for that shit?"

"Right," Nathan added, snapping his fingers and pointing at each of them. "He's just a chancer, chancin' it. I mean what does he actually know?"

Izzy snorted and shook her head. "Apart from the fact that you came back to life in your coffin, the whole virtue virgin situation, who we are, what we can do, where I live, where Alisha lives—yeah, he doesn't know a fucking thing."

"Why do ya fick 'e knows where ya live?" Kelly asked worriedly.

"He left me a note the other night," Izzy replied. "He was telling me not to look for him."

"Shit," Curtis swore loudly. "What are you going to do?"

Izzy looked like him like he was an idiot. "Obviously I'm going to keep looking for him. If he wanted to hurt me he would've done it by now, and he wouldn't have helped me in the first place."

After that the topic just seemed to drop out of existence. Izzy spun around, looking at the lot of them, but it was like they had all had their memories wiped or some shit like that—all of them except Simon, that is. How could they be so fucking apathetic? There was a guy running around who knew pretty much everything about them, but they didn't know a single bloody thing about him. Izzy wasn't comfortable with that sort of imbalance. These guys must have the attention span of a newborn puppy. Kelly was studying her slightly creepily long nails and Alisha was reapplying her lip gloss, using the reflective screen of her phone. Izzy sighed heavily and glanced over at Simon, who was looking back at her with a similar expression of frustration on his face.

"We're goin' out tonight," Kelly said, walking up to Nathan. "Are ya comin'?"

Nathan's face split into a wide grin. "Oh, yeah. Cool, man. I'll bring my little brother. We are goin' to be knee deep in pussy."

Izzy let out a laugh that was probably a little too bitter to be natural. "That would require that you have anything resembling game," she muttered sarcastically. "I don't think straight-up asking girls to have sex with you is going to get you any."

Nathan smirked widely. "Oh, hang on!" he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flyer for a band with a girly scribble on it, waving it in front of her face. "What's this? It's the phone number of a beautiful girl! I think someone's gettin' laid!"

Izzy clenched her teeth and swatted his hand away, keeping a cool exterior, and plastered a wry smile on her face. "Have you been carrying that around just to show it off?"

He blinked and wrinkled his nose a bit at her. "No."

She raised her eyebrows and folded her arm across her chest. "Why would you be keeping it in your jumpsuit, then? Kind of a high risk for losing it, don't you think?"

"Whatever, man," he spluttered, shoving the number back in his pocket and walking away from her, spraying absently at he weeds. Izzy allowed herself a tiny smile of victory. She would never get tired of subverting his twattish behavior. He didn't feel shame, but he could feel embarrassment.

"Wot about you?" Kelly asked, poking her with the end of her sprayer. "You lookin' forward to it?"

Izzy exhaled sharply. She wasn't really one of those people who enjoy clubs or that kind of thing. She had been claustrophobic ever since she was a kid, and being in a room hundreds of people pressing up against each other in closed quarters was not exactly conducive to that. And she really didn't want to watch Nathan grinding up on whoever the owner of that girly handwriting was.

"Oh, there's no way in hell I'm going," she said with a derisive snort. "Not my scene. I've got a date with a carton of ice cream and a bootleg copy of 'Predator'."

Kelly's jaw dropped and she gave Izzy an incredulous look. "Ya've got ta be fockin' jokin'. Dis fing iz gonna be epic. You're not missin' it."

Izzy shot her a sheepish smile and shrugged her shoulders. "Couldn't go if I wanted to. I've got nothing to wear. That's the good thing about having no money and crappy clothes. You can get yourself out of this sort of shit."

"Dat's bollocks."

"Look, you can just borrow something of mine again," Alisha said, smacking her gum loudly. "I've got plenty of stuff I don't wear anymore."

"That's very generous of you, but I really don't think—"

Izzy stopped talking when Alisha walked up to her with a strange expression on her face. She circled around Izzy and batted at the long, red hair spilling out of her ponytail, leaving Izzy with the distinct impression that she was a contestant for Crufts being weighed and measured and all that shit. Alisha came to a stop in front of Izzy and looked her up and down. Izzy took a step away from her and shot her a suspicious look.

"What?" she demanded, shoving her hands in her pockets and adopting a defensive posture.

Alisha pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes a bit. "Nothin'," she said nonchalantly. "I'm just wondering what you would look like if you weren't dressed by a blind biker chick with a cruel sense of humor. And if you actually knew how to do your makeup."

"I don't like where this is going," Izzy said in a sing-song voice. "This isn't 'The Devil Wears Prada' or 'Clueless' or that kind of shit. And I am _not_ going to the orgy in the shipping crates. It sounds seriously fucking unsanitary. I can't dance, I hate crowds, and that generally sounds like the worst nightmare I have ever been subjected to."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Walking up to those giant shipping crates, Izzy couldn't help wondering how the fuck it was that she had ended up there. She hadn't wanted to go—hell she still didn't want to go. It was ridiculous how she had gotten there. She had been practically frog-marched over to Alisha's flat by Alisha and Kelly, forced into some tight black shirt, was practically strangled by some necklaces, and then the two of them came at her with makeup and hair related things that looked suspiciously like medieval torture implements.

Izzy had never been good at any of that sort of girly shit—the hair and the makeup. Her mum had died before she had gotten around to that kind of thing. It was an absolute nightmare when she had gotten her first period. She had to read about the whole thing on WebMD and actually had to nick her first tampons from the drugstore. One of the clerks had actually caught her—how fucking embarrassing was that? He had let her go though. He even paid for the tampons out of his own pocket. Izzy did learn a very important lesson that day—one that she would carry with her for the rest of her life. When it came to crying girls or tampons, blokes would do whatever they had to do to get out that situation as soon as they possibly could. All the rest of that stuff, though, she had just never gotten around to learning about it. There had never been anyone who cared enough to teach her in the first place. Mrs. Ainsley sure as hell hadn't been equipped to tell her—the last time she had worn makeup was probably during World War Two. And she bought all of her clothes two sizes too big for 'wiggle room'.

Maybe that was why she had agreed to let herself be dragged along to what would inevitably be a complete fucking disaster. It was the first time she had actually felt pretty. It's not that she was ever insecure about her looks or felt unattractive—it was just the first time she had ever been all feminine and shit. That probably wasn't the best way to word it, though. And she had never had friends that were girls before. I mean, she had never had any close friends at all, but there was something about the other girls at school that she just wasn't able to….relate to. Anyways it was either that or the chemicals from the hair product left her temporarily brain damaged. Or hypnosis. Either way, she wasn't in her right mind when she agreed to it.

Opening the door to that container was like diving in through the looking glass. There were so many people, the music was loud and reverberating against the thin metal walls, and the lights were flashing so much they could probably trigger seizures in epileptics or something like that. Still, maybe it was a good thing that she was there. Broadening her horizons and meeting new people and everything. Hell, standing next to Kelly she already felt like she was meeting new people. It was seriously bizarre seeing her with her hair down. She looked…softer, more feminine, pretty. Though there was no doubt in Izzy's mind that she would still kick the shit out of anybody who crossed her.

Simon and Curtis were already there, sitting in the back and holding some drinks for them. When the three of them walked up, Curtis looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Holy shit," he shouted over the loud, blaring music and taking a swig of the beer in his hand. "Izzy, you look like a girl."

She laughed awkwardly and scratched at the back of her neck. "Thanks a lot, Curtis," she muttered, fidgeting uncomfortably in the too-tight clothes. "That was totally the right way to phrase that."

"How's about a little credit?" Alisha said, grabbing a drink out of Curtis's outstretched hand.

Izzy sighed heavily and moved to rub at her eyes in frustration, only to have Kelly smack her hand away. "Ya can' do dat. You'll smear the eyeliner."

Izzy rolled her eyes heavily and groaned. "Jesus fucking Christ. Do we really need to publicize the fact that you just dressed me up like your favorite doll. I feel like a little girl who just raided her mum's makeup kit and smeared lipstick all over her face."

Simon leaned forwards and gave her an awkward little smile. "I think you look nice."

"Thanks Simon," she semi-shouted back. Looking around she got that swooping uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. There were just too many people. "I need to get really fucking drunk, like right now," she said, grabbing hold of the nearest beer, popping it open, and taking a large swig.

After a while it actually wasn't so bad. Curtis and Alisha pretty much kept to themselves, exchanging flirty banter and doing that weird, pseudo-sexual almost-touching thing of theirs. Simon meanwhile was giving her and Kelly a play-by-play description of the hallucination scene from '2001: A Space Odyssey'. Kelly was smiling and nodding along pretending to be interested and Izzy listened intently, not having the heart to tell him that she had already seen the film about twenty times.

Soon enough Nathan ran in with a boyish grin on his face. His eyes paused a bit when they rested on her and a strange sort of expression crossed her face. Izzy could feel a swooping sensation in her stomach, but this time it was the good kind. The butterflies kind. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but suddenly Nathan was distracted by something off to his left and turned away just as quickly as he had appeared. Izzy saw another girl making a beeline for him, a look of mild relief on her face. She was pale and had dark brown hair. Pretty. Izzy felt her lip curl involuntarily as the girl approached. Not that she had any problem with her. It was Izzy's problem, not anybody else's. The girl could be perfectly nice and run around teaching underprivileged kids how to read or saving puppies or that kind of shit for all Izzy knew.

"Hey!" Nathan shouted as she approached, placing a hand on the small of her back. "Hey, these are my friends." He waved his arm in their general direction and Izzy gave a half-hearted salute of acknowledgement.

"Uh, I'm not your friend," Alisha said coldly, making Izzy hide a snort behind her hand.

Not that that would deter Nathan. He just leaned in and put a hand on the girl's hip. "You look even prettier in the dark," he shouted at the still-nameless girl. Izzy couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sad excuse of a pick-up line. And then the other girl did too. Hm. She couldn't be all that bad. But then she had to go and apologize. Izzy sat there watching the whole flirty interchange unable to look away. It was like when you see a seriously gruesome traffic accident or something. You want to look away, but you just can't. Anyways, the thing ended with Nathan waving around a handle of vodka he had snuck in. "In my experience there isn't any problem that can't be solved by gettin' really, really drunk."

Izzy let out a bitter laugh, making his eyes flick to her for a second. "Now that's a philosophy I can appreciate," she muttered, grabbing the flask she had tucked into the back of her pants and throwing her head back, taking a long swig of bourbon. The liquor coursed down her throat, burning slightly as it went down. When she finished she cleared her throat and wiped at her mouth, only to find Simon staring at her and glancing between her and Nathan with a curious expression on his face. Izzy narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

Simon just shook his head quickly. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Soon enough Nathan's brother showed up as well. He walked up to her with a sort of sly smile eerily similar to his older brother's. She could see a bit of a resemblance. It wasn't strong, but it was there. "Hey," he said, flashing her a grin. "I'm Jamie."

She smiled back and nodded in greeting. "Izzy," she responded.

"You alright?" he asked. Then there was the bare minimum of slightly flirty pleasantries exchanged. The guy really wasn't the best conversationalist on the planet, but it really wasn't the best venue for that kind of thing. Another reason she really fucking hated these kinds of things. After a few moments, he pulled some sort of container out of his pocket. "You fancy a pill?" he asked, leaning in a bit too close.

Biting her lip, Izzy looked at the container in his hands, considering it. She didn't usually do pills. Only the shit that's grown from Mother Earth—that was her motto. Sure it kind of made her sound like an unwashed hippie, but it had worked out for her just fine so far. But today was a day of firsts, so she took it from him, popped it in her mouth, and washed it down with another shot of bourbon. She felt someone's eyes on her, and turned to find Nathan staring at her again. He needed to start keeping his eyes to himself. She stared back in some bizarre form of chicken until he broke eye contact, threw his arm over Jamie's shoulder, and dragged him off to get another drink. What the fuck was going on between the two of them? Izzy had never been so confused in her entire life. Then again, people were usually the most confusing to her. She wasn't equipped to understand herself much less anybody else.

Izzy watched Nathan and Jamie's retreating figures, but then her eyes shifted and fell on someone else. Someone she knew and hadn't seen for a very long time. Tall, sandy blonde hair, well-built, piercing blue eyes. Piercing blue eyes that had just connected with hers. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Izzy froze for a moment, and then immediately—like a socially awkward idiot—crouched low to the ground and disappeared out of his eye line, beneath the writhing crowd. Maybe he hadn't seen her. She hoped to God that he hadn't seen her.

"Uh, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Alisha asked from where she was perched up on a stack of boxes.

Izzy glanced up at the others, who were busy staring at her like she was a complete lunatic. "You see that tall, blonde guy in the blue shirt and leather jacket," she said, jerking her thumb in the direction she had been looking in. "That's my ex, Ian. The ex, actually." All of them simultaneously turned their heads in his direction. "Jesus, don't all look at once," she hissed.

Alisha let out a low whistle. "He is fit. Why did you end it with him?"

"I didn't," Izzy spat back bitterly. Alisha wrinkled her nose and shot her a pitying look. Izzy glowered back.

"Shit," Curtis said, squinting in his direction. "Is he wearing a fuckin' Rolex?"

"If it looks like a Rolex, then it's a fucking Rolex," Izzy growled back. Why were they being so obvious?

"Wot, so 'e's fockin' rich as well?" Kelly gaped. " 'Ow the hell did ya meet 'im?"

"School," Izzy practically screamed. "Now can we please stop staring? I'm not exactly up for a reunion."

"I fink dat's gonna be a problem," Kelly said, still staring out across the dance floor.

"Why?"

"Becoz 'e's standin' right 'ere."

Izzy cringed, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a deep, steadying breath, cursing her high tolerance for leaving her still sober during a meeting like this. Finally summoning up the courage to look up from her crouched position, she saw Ian standing over her with a small, fond smile and his hands shoved in his pockets. This was definitely not how she had imagined running into him after four years. And why did he have to look so fucking good.

"Oh, look," Izzy said in a rehearsed-sounding voice, "there's the corrective lens that fell on the floor that I am incapable of seeing without." She stood up slowly, eyes darting about for an escape, but there wasn't one. And her so-called friends were watching eagerly, like this was a bloody soap opera or something.

Ian's smile widened a bit. "Hey, Bels," he said warmly. "How's it going?"

"Who's Bels?" Curtis asked stupidly. He forgot the first rule of documentary efforts. Don't interfere with the subject.

"I'm Bels," Izzy muttered. "Or at least I used to be." She sighed heavily and turned back to the bloke standing in front of her. "Hey, Ian," she said with thinly veiled sarcasm in her voice. "Long time no see."

"You look good," he continued, taking a small step towards her. She shifted back a little in response, making him pause. "I have to say, I never expected to run into you in a place like this. The way I remember it you hated this kind of thing. What did you used to call it? An STD factory?"

"Well like I said, it's been a while," she returned. "Things change. People change."

"Yeah," he said, nodding absently. "Yeah, it's been a while. Four years."

"You were always so good at math."

He let out a snort, unfazed by the sarcasm and the fairly obvious hints that she did not want to have this conversation. He was never fazed by that kind of thing. It was what had made them work all those years ago, but now it was just really fucking annoying. "So," he said, taking another step forward. "Do you want to go catch up or something?"

Izzy rubbed forehead in frustration. "I'm here with my friends, Ian," she said with finality in her voice.

Ian pressed his lips together and nodded. "Alright. I'll leave you to it. Maybe I'll come find you later on." He walked off quickly, and she knew it was so she couldn't tell him not to. Izzy reached for the flask again and tossed it back, draining the rest of the contents before throwing it unceremoniously on the ground. It made her so fucking angry that even after all these years he still knew her so well. And that's why did something she would never do in a million years—something Ian would never expect. She marched out onto the dance floor.

The air felt thick, kind of like it was a fluid—difficult to move through—and the music started having a sort of hollow sound to it, like all there was was the bass. Izzy didn't know how long she was out there. Clocks seemed to lose all meaning. The only thing keeping time was the rhythmic pounding of the music. And everything was so….disjointed. But in a good way. She felt loose and free and there was a sort of warm tingling under the surface of her skin. It was a sensory overload, and all of the bullshit worries just sort of fell away as she moved to the music. She was high. And she fucking loved it. She closed her eyes and felt herself float.

"Hey!" a voice shouted in her ear, bringing her crashing back down to Earth. When she opened her eyes, and saw Nathan standing in front of her. Like everyone else in the place, he was sweating a bit, but in that light it just made it look like his skin was glowing. Did hers look like that as well? She shook her head, getting her thoughts back together. The drugs were making her head fuzzy.

"What are you doing here?" she shouted over the pulsating music. "Where's…shit I don't think I ever caught her name." She glanced over his shoulder, past where Curtis and Alisha had started dancing, to see the girl off with Jamie. "I thought she was with you."

He glanced in their direction as well before turning back to her with a wide smile in his face. "Nah, man," he said, leaning in close so that she could hear him, his face inches from hers. "Well, I mean she was, but I figured Jamie needed a shag more right now, so I let him have her."

Izzy snorted and gave him a wry smile. "How altruistic of you."

His smirk widened. "Well, I'm a very altruistic person. That's what brothers are supposed to do, right? Get each other laid."

Izzy let out a choked laugh. "You need to seriously reconsider that phrasing."

"And you need to get your mind out of the gutter, you dirty bird!" Then his eyes widened a bit as they stared into hers with an intensity that actually freaked her out a bit. "There is some seriously weird shit goin' on with you eyes."

There was a weird sort of burst of light and everything started to shimmer a bit. "I think the pills are kicking in," Izzy shouted back, shaking her head and sending her hair flying everywhere. "Why are you here?" she asked suspiciously. "There are loads of drunk, impressionable girls for you to take advantage of. This is prime fucking pickings. What the hell are you waiting for?"

He shrugged his shoulders absently, but got a bit of a shifty look. "Maybe I want to hang out with you."

"We see each other almost every day," she returned.

Nathan blew out a long breath and shrugged his shoulders, like he was looking for an answer. Then something changed in Nathan's expression. He looked over her shoulder and the smile faded into a glower before his gaze shifted back to her. Izzy's eyebrows drew together in confusion as she studied his face. "What's wrong?" she asked anxiously.

"Who was that bloke from earlier," he asked.

Izzy pressed her lips together in a thin, firm line. "Nobody."

She could see his jaw clench at her answer. "Yeah, well nobody looks like he's comin' over for a chat."

Izzy swore loudly as she saw Ian pushing towards them with a determined look on his face. Shit. Why was this happening? It was like two halves of her life were colliding—matter and antimatter—and there was about to be a big fucking explosion. Everything was always going to shit around her.

Ian approached again with an earnest expression on his face. Izzy was fairly certain she heard Nathan mutter the word 'pussy' under his breath. "Look, Bels," he said as he approached, "I just want to talk, okay? I didn't like the way we left things, and running into each other like this….I feel like we should sort it out. We used to be friends once."

"What the fuck is this?" Nathan asked, pointing between the two of them.

"It's nothing," Izzy said shortly.

"My lily white arse it's nothin'," he growled back. "Who is this prick?"

Izzy grabbed hold of Nathan's sleeve and yanked him a few meters away from Ian, holding up a finger indicating for him to wait. "Remember the 'shit we don't talk about' file that you love so much," she spat back. "He goes in it. He's someone from my past who's going to stay there. That's all you have to know."

"How the fuck is he in the past if he's standin' right over there," Nathan shot back, jabbing a finger in his direction. A small sneer formed on his face. "He looks like a total dildo. I bet he goes to yoga classes so he can pick up women."

A wave of anger coursed through Izzy. All of the frustration of the past few weeks was building up inside of her. And then it burst out.

'I am fucking sick of this, Nathan!" she shouted, this time not because of the music.

He looked at her in confusion. "Of what?"

"Of what? Of this—" she gestured between the two of them. "I am sick of this fucking one-sided bullshit we've got going. You expect me to blab my entire fucking life story? You can't even tell me why the fuck I have to go and find you in the fucking police station with a broken nose! That's not how this sort of shit is supposed to work!" She exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I—I just can't do this with you right now," she whispered. "Why is it that blokes always find a way to fuck you over?"

Nathan watched her silently through the entire outburst, but his face was growing more and more angry. "I did eeny meeny miny mo, you lost and I picked you anyway, but now that prick can have you and I'll have—the other one. Jamie'll just have to do without!"

He stormed off in a huff and Izzy swore under her breath, wondering exactly what the fuck it was that had just happened. Her head was swimming from the drugs and she was beginning to feel vaguely sick. She turned and moved back over to Ian, who was still standing there, waiting for her.

"What?" she demanded, throwing her hands up in the air. She had had enough of all of it. "What do you want, Ian? What the fuck is this? Is it some weird need to know if you made the right call when you threw me out like a piece of moldy bread? Fine. Your mum was right. I ended up a total fuck-up. I'm in community service and everything."

He grabbed hold of her arm and gently steered her off the dance floor. "That's not what I want to hear," he said. "And you just did what anybody would do. I know how much you love Allan. If I were in your place, I would've done the same thing."

At that Izzy froze. "How the hell did you know what I was arrested for? Have you been checking up on me?"

He sighed heavily and shook his head. "My mum told me you had been arrested, kind of as an I told you so."

Izzy scoffed bitterly. "Of course she did."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said gently. "I went to your trial."

Then another realization dawned on her. "They set my bail, but then they just let me go. You bailed me out." She didn't need a response. Ian had always been a shit liar and the truth was written all over his face. "Jesus fucking Christ, Ian! I'm not some bloody charity case! It may have been four years, but you know me well enough to know I would _never_ want that. Especially from you."

"I was worried, Bels!" he shouted back. "Just because we're not together any more doesn't mean I stopped fucking caring! I'm allowed to worry."

"No you're bloody not!"

"Why not!"

"Because you _broke_ me, Ian!"

That seemed to shut him up. Izzy let out a hollow laugh and looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep herself together. When she looked back down at him, he still looked like she had slapped him across the face. So she took advantage of the silence to say exactly what she had wanted to say the first time around. "I had one person. All the others—the foster parents and shit—they were temporary. I had one person that I trusted, that I told everything to, that I shared everything with. You. That was it. And you threw me out too. We're never going to patch things up or go out for coffee, Ian. There is no more Bels. Bels is gone, okay. We can't just run into each other four years after the fact and go back to being pals. Too much shit has happened."

She turned around to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her back towards him. It started out harmlessly enough, but then she got defensive and she could feel that pressure under her skin. Only this time it wasn't like it was pushing outwards. It was pulling in. And the grip on her wrist was tightening.

"Let me go, Ian," she said as calmly as possible, but he just squeezed more, and she could feel the soreness of bruises starting to form. Then he yanked her back and slammed her into the metal wall, grasping each of her shoulders and pulling his face close to hers. His eyes looked strange—blank even. Izzy kneed him in the groin, but there was no reaction. Not even a flinch. That was not normal. Izzy started breathing quicker as she started to panic. "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!"

His hand moved to her neck and his fingers closed around her throat, pushing her up the wall so that her feet were dangling, unable to reach the ground. She could feel the pressure on her carotid artery, the pulsing of the blood in her head became more and more forceful. She felt like she was about to pass out. But the more she panicked, the stronger that pulling sensation got, and the tighter Ian's hand squeezed around her throat. She clutched frantically at the hand, trying to lift herself high enough that the blood flow wouldn't be completely cut off, but little white spots appeared in front of her eyes and she became sleepy. All of the sudden, the pressure was released when someone pulled him off of her. Ian stumbled backwards and collapsed on the floor, revealing a livid Curtis. "Get the _fuck _out of here," he screamed, pointing at the door. Ian looked confused and terrified, staring between his own hands and Izzy who was clutching her own throat and gasping for breath and sliding down against the wall till she was sitting on the floor. Then he scrambled to his feet and ran away.

"You, okay?" Curtis asked, holding a hand out to help her up.

"Yeah," she said slightly breathlessly, taking the hand offered her and allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. "Yeah, I'm fine." She looked at the spot where Ian had just been and shook her head. That wasn't him that attacked her. It was…something else. She glanced back up at Curtis, who was still looking at her with concern. "I just—I think that was my fault. I wanted him gone, and then my power started….but it…"

Curtis nodded. "The drugs have been messin' with our powers. It happened to me too. I went to the future instead of the past and Alisha….."

Izzy nodded and patted him on the arm in thanks. "I'm going to go home. Thanks for…everything."

She dodged through the throngs of people until she managed to burst out the front door. Fresh air hit her face and she breathed for what felt like the first time since she had gotten there. What a fucked up night. She walked around the side of the shipping container and leaned against it. There were people wandering around outside. They all seemed drunk and happy and generally carefree. Izzy wished she could be like that, but whenever she tried, shit like this happened. Not the inadvertently compelling your overly concerned ex-boyfriend to attack you thing specifically, but just the general fucking up of things. Nathan was pissed at her, and she honestly wasn't sure why. Well she had yelled at him, so that might have something to do with it. It was all too much for her. Between the drugs and the booze, her head was a mess. It always starts out fine, and then it turns on you.

There was a sniffling noise somewhere to her left, and Izzy turned to see Alisha. She was—holy shit, she was crying.

"Hey," Izzy murmured quietly, walking up to her. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Alisha shook her head and wiped at the tears as they kept falling. "This fucking power. I can't even have a night out without—"

She couldn't finish the sentence. She just looked away from Izzy like she was afraid of being judged or something. "I touched Curtis," she said quietly. "And then he called me a disgusting bitch and shoved me on the floor."

"It's the drugs," Izzy replied. "It's like it's reversing the powers. I think mine just made my ex-boyfriend try to kill me."

Alisha's head snapped around to look at her. "Are you fuckin' serious."

Izzy let out a snort and nodded. "Yep. I think I just got a small taste of the shit you've got to put up with—making people do shit without trying to, or even wanting to. You were dealt a seriously shit hand. I'm sorry."

Alisha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. It was almost like she didn't expect any sort of sympathy from Izzy. Then again, Izzy had never really put all that much effort in with Alisha. The two of them had formed a truce of sorts, and were even friendly, but it was always that casual sort of shit. Nothing all that deep.

Alisha sighed and looked up at the sky above her. "The shit thing about it, it's the exact same when my power isn't all fucked. Either way, I can't touch people. I—I manipulate them, control them. I don't even want to it's just—"

"It's not like it's your fault," Izzy replied. "It's something that was done to you. It wasn't a choice." The two of them were quiet for a while and watched the general chaos going on around them. Izzy noticed Alisha staring at a couple that were kissing and stumbling towards a car. Then it occurred to her that that was something Alisha could never have again. "You know, those things that are supposed to be fun?" she said suddenly. "Raves, rollercoasters, parades, that kind of shit? It's always absolutely horrible. I think people do it because they know it's supposed to be fun and they play along. So basically it's everybody trying to make everyone else happy, but the whole time everybody's fucking miserable."

Alisha let out a small, weak laugh and sniffed loudly. Izzy shot her a small smile. "You want to hug it out." The other girl scowled at her angrily, making Izzy's smile widen. "What, too soon?"

The scowl turned in to a reluctant smile. "You're fuckin' terrible, you know that."

"Well I do try," Izzy shot back sarcastically. "Do you want to go eat a shitload of ice cream and watch 'Predator'?"

Alisha let out a tired sigh and shook her head. "Maybe another time. I just want to go home and take a bath."

Izzy pressed her lips together and nodded in understanding. "That sounds like a fucking awesome plan."

The two girls walked together for a while, but eventually split up, each of them going to their respective ways. As soon as Izzy opened the door to her flat, she stripped off those uncomfortable clothes and made a beeline for the fridge. There really wasn't anything better than watching B-grade scifi/horror films while eating ice cream in your underwear. She shoved the DVD in and hit play. But then, as the first guy was being eviscerated by the invisible alien menace, something occurred to her.

The way she figured it, her power was basically keeping other people from hurting her when she got panicked. So while on the drugs, when she panicked, it made people hurt her. That's why Ian had done it. That's why she had the small, circular bruises on her neck from where he had gripped her. Curtis flash-forwarded instead of going back. Alisha made herself disgusting as opposed to irresistible. Presumably Kelly would be telling everyone what she was thinking instead of listening in and Simon would become highly visible or whatever. Nathan was immortal. What did the power reversal mean for him?

Izzy felt like she was going to throw up. Knocking the carton of ice cream onto the floor, she sprang from the couch and grabbed her mobile from where it was on the table and quickly punched in his number. He had to be okay. He just had to. She pressed the phone to her ear and listened as it rang. And rang. And rang.

**Okay, so I'm really not sure about this chapter. I actually kind of hate it. I hope you don't, but I'm just feeling super insecure about it and don't know how to make it better.  
**

** I wanted to keep in some sort of equivalent of the Nathan/Kelly fight at the club, so I did. I hope the whole 'dressing Izzy up' didn't seem too trite. It's not like she got a makeover or anything, it was just for the party, and I also wanted to include a bit of Izzy backstory about what it was like growing up without a mum. I also wanted to kind of solidify Izzy's relationship with Curtis and start kind of forging one with Alisha. Watching the series, I only started to really **_**like**_** the characters in series 2. The show was great and the ensemble was great, but on an individual basis it was different. Also, I wanted Izzy's power to make something dangerous to happen to her. And I hope that Ian didn't come off terribly. He's actually trying to be nice and is a decent guy, but Izzy's just so far past it, she doesn't even really want to look at him. I also wanted to be able to have her confront him, and this seemed like the most obvious way to have them meet seeing as he wouldn't be wandering around the community center or anything.**

**Don't hate me for this chapter being pretty depressing! I know my writing hasn't been as funny lately, but despite the funny bits, ep 2 was really, really heavy.**

**Please review! I'm seriously considering revising this chapter heavily, but I'm not quite sure how to yet, so I would really appreciate the input. Any criticisms, I will definitely consider them and try to integrate them into the corrections.**

**Also, a photo of Ian is also on my profile.**

**Oh, and the 'I bet he takes yoga classes to pick up women' line is from the TV show Castle.  
**


	28. Crossroads

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Sunflowers in Moscow, Becca, Lady Shagging Godiva, Adela, incitanemxx, Phaex, and violetXshadows for reviewing. And thank you for being so nice about the last chapter. I don't know why, but I got a sudden bout of insecurity and I really appreciate you all being so understanding through it. I'm satisfied with this chapter, so you won't have to deal with my neediness again! I'm sure you're all breathing a sigh of relief.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

**On my profile I have links to photos of Izzy, her tattoos, her brother Allan, her mother, her ex-boyfriend Ian, and how she looked out at the club.**

**I'm also considering developing my own soundtrack for the story. I will probably have some of the same songs as the show, but a lot of my own choosing as well. If I do develop it, it will be saved on my profile as a different story.**

Chapter 28 - Crossroads

"_You've reached the voicemail of whichever name I gave you. I can't be bothered to take your call, because let's face it you're not that interesting. If you don't know how to leave a message, then you're a fuckin' idiot, so I don't know if I want to hear what you have to say in the first pl—"_

BEEP.

"Nathan, it's Izzy. There's some seriously weird shit going on with our powers, so don't get yourself into any sort of trouble. I know it's out of character and all that shit, but please. If there was any time in your life to act like a reasonable human being it's right now. Please call me back as soon as you get this so I know you're okay."

BEEP.

"Nathan, it's Izzy again. It's been a few hours since my last message and I haven't heard back from you yet. I know you never check your messages, but for fuck's sake please just do it this once. Call me back. It's Izzy."

BEEP.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nathan! Pick up your fucking phone! For all I know you're lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and believe it or not I'm not exactly comfortable with that idea! Just—just call me, okay? It's Izzy, by the way."

BEEP.

"Look, I know I was a dick at the club earlier. If that's why you're ignoring your calls, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I was drunk and high and having a generally shit night. Plus Alisha shoved me into this top so tight I'm pretty sure it cut off the blood flow to my brain, so ultimately it's really not my fault. And now you're probably thinking something pervy. Anyways, if this radio silence is some sick form of retribution, then there is definitely something very wrong with you. I just called the fucking morgue to see if they have any curly-haired imbeciles stashed in any of their freezers…..It's Izzy."

BEEP.

"If you're not dead for real right now, I'm going to fucking kill you. I'm going to kill you, sit there and watch you come back to life, and then kill you again. I don't know exactly how I'm going to kill you yet, but I just googled 'painful ways to die' and I think that's really going to help with the brainstorming. The longer you wait to call me back, the more time I'll have to consider my options. It's Izzy."

BEEP.

"Never mind. I just talked to Simon. He said you were fine when you left the party, and even you aren't idiotic enough to get yourself killed walking back to the community center. Just—just ignore the other voicemails. They're really not important. Jesus. Who are we fucking kidding? You're not going to listen to any of these are you? I guess I'll see you Monday, then. I fucking hate you sometimes, you know. And when I see you, I'm still going to punch you in the face, so full disclosure and all that. This is Izzy, if that wasn't fucking clear by now."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Izzy was still a mess. Ten hours. That's how long it had been. Ten full hours of half-believing that Nathan was actually, properly dead. She probably looked like a stalker, leaving him all of those messages like that. And then there was the fact that she had dropped by the community center, only to find that he wasn't there. -Ten hours of nausea and general blinding panic before Simon called her. She didn't know why she didn't think of calling him earlier to find out if he knew anything. Of all of them he was the one most likely to pick up the phone.

But even after talking to him, she still had that sick feeling of worry. He spent about thirty seconds talking about Nathan before going into a story about how he had found out where the guy in the mask lived. Izzy was suspicious of that. It sounded too easy, like whoever it was had let Simon follow him and he had set up a decoy or something. Someone who could do backflips off of a two story building and make a perfect landing on the pavement below...they probably had the skills necessary to detect when an uncoordinated comic book nerd is following them. And for the time being Izzy really didn't give a shit about the guy in the mask. The mystery would still be there tomorrow, but for right now she genuinely did not give a shit. She hadn't slept all night the previous night, and she needed to power down her brain before it overheated and exploded all over her flat. It was enough of a fucking mess already after she forgot about that tub of ice cream and let it melt all over the floor.

The next morning was like any other one. Izzy woke up to the blaring sound of her alarm, rolled over and hit it with a shoe to making it shut the fuck up, and eventually reluctantly pulled herself out of bed. After shovelling in a few mouthfuls of toast, she grabbed her shower caddy, wrapped herself in a towel, and threw on her flipflops before padding down the hallway to the shared toilet. She yanked violently on the rusted lever to switch on the water and listened to that typical thunking of the pipes before turning to faceher own reflectionn the mirror above the sink.

What Izzy saw in that mirror made her blink in surprise. It wasn't that the reflection didn't look like her, because it did, but it was a different version of herself. There was no makeup on her face, her eyes looked bloodshot, and her skin had a sort of sickly pallor to it. She looked old. Not old in that she suddenly had developed a set of wrinkles overnight that somehow turned her into a Disney witch, but old as in wearied. There were bags under her eyes, despite having just slept for about fourteen hours straight, and there was a hollowness in her eyes that made her look like the war veterans in some of those specials. She looked like someone who had seen too much. And she had. Jesus, she really had. Then there were the bruises-those ten small perfectly circular bruises on her neck where Ian's fingers had squeezed in, not to mention the ones circling her wrists. Those came with angry cuts as well from where the metal bracelets Alisha had lent her dug into the skin. Yesterday those bruises had been purple, but now overnight they seemed to have faded into a sickly greenish yellow color.

Staring at those bruises, her mind flashed back to the night she got them. That look on Ian's face...it was harrowing. It was the desire to kill, to damage, wrapped up in a single facial expression. It was the same one that Tony, the probation worker had had on his face when he tried to kill her. Fuck, that felt like years ago now. In reality it had only been about six weeks.

The reflection looking back at her belonged to someone who was broken. There was even a long crack running through the mirror that fractured her face. It was like the universe was trying to bombard her with metaphors to describe her state of emotional distress. Izzy had seen that look before, usually on kids who were too young for it. She had seen it on her own face before as well. She was broken. And she had to put herself back together again. She had done it before, and each time it seemed to get a little bit easier. She gripped the stained white porcelain of the sink and leaned forwards until her forehead was pressed against the glass and she was staring directly into her own eyes. "Suck it up, McCallum."

As the mirror started fogging at the corners from the steam emanating from the shower, Izzy ripped her eyes away from her own reflection and stepped under the cascading water. It was boiling hot-the goddamn water heater never could regulate temperature-but this time she reveled in it. The heat stung her skin and made it turn a blotchy red color, like a lobster being boiled, but it was good. It was cathartic. She stayed under the water until it turned cold, scrubbing frantically at her skin like she was trying wipe away everything that had happened, and it was working. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she was shiny, new, and a bit pink given that she had probably stripped off her entire outer layer of skin. She looked like a fucking newborn baby.

Izzy shook her hair out violently, sending drops of water flying everywhere, and wrapped her towel around her middle before opening the door and walking back the her flat. When she got there, though, there was something blocking her entrance. Actually it was more of a somebody He was sitting on the floor-not something that Izzy would recommend doing for your health's sake-with his arms resting on his knees and his head buried in his arms. All she could really see was a head of sandy blond hair.

"Ian?"

The head snapped up immediately with such force that he actually ended up slamming it into the door behind it with a sickening crack. It was definitely him. Izzy tightened her towel around her and took a small step back.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a low voice. "How did you get in? For that matter, how the fuck do you know where I live?"

He scrambled to his feet quickly and wiped at his upper lip with his thumb like he always did when he was nervous. "There are these newfangled things called phonebooks," he said with artificial levity. "They list the telephone number and address of people. And as for the getting in bit, I buzzed everybody's number and told them I had a free pizza for them until one of them let me in."

"It's 7:30 a.m.," she shot back in a disbelieving tone. "How in the hell would anybody believe something like that?"

"Well it's like you always say," he returned with the small ghost of a smile on his face. "People are idiots."

The apparent cheerfulness on Ian's face was such a transparent mask. He was even more of a mess than she was. His eyes were even more bloodshot than hers, the bags under his eyes looked like angry purple bruises, and his hair was sticking out crazily. When his eyes travelled to her neck and saw the bruising, his jaw clenched so tight, the tendons in his neck stood out so much it looked like they were about to burst through his skin. Izzy could see from the expression on his face that he was tearing himself apart on the inside, and she couldn't help but feel that swooping feeling of regret. After all, none of it had been his fault. The attack, that is.

Then Izzy remembered she was standing there in nothing but a towel. "I-I should probably put some clothes on," she said, pointing at the door behind her. He nodded quickly and stepped aside, letting her threw but he didn't leave. After closing the door behindher, she heard a light thump through those paper thin walls as his back fell against it. Izzy quickly through on the ripped jeans and worn, flannel shirt lying in a wrinkled heap at the foot of her bed, pulled on her socks and Converse, and grabbed her bag before heading back out the door. When she exited her flat, Ian was still standing there leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. At the sound of the door clicking shut, his eyes flew open again. When he looked at her a small smile played on his lips, but it was a pained one.

"You look more like you," he said in a scratchy voice. "It's better."

Izzy tried to think of something to say in response, but there was nothing that came to mind. She just stood there dumbly. Ian's eyes flickered to her neck again and he reached up to touch it, but quickly stopped himself, shoving his hands deep into his pockets like he was trying to stop himself from reaching out again.

"I am so sorry," he said, his voice catching in his throat. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, or ever, but I had to apologize. You have no idea-I don't even remember what happened. We were talking and then...it's not an excuse. I'm not trying to...Shit I'm just so sorry, Bel-Izzy."

"It's okay," she said quietly.

He laughed hysterically and shook his head. "No, no it's not okay. Look at what I did to you."

"It wasn't you," she said quickly, making him blink back in shock. "You-you had a fit or something," she continued, trying to give him an out. He deserved one. He really hadn't done anything wrong. "You didn't know what you were doing. I don't blame you for any of that, so you can just let it go. I'm giving you a pass."

He let out a disbelieving, humorless snort and stared up at the ceiling. "How are you letting me off this easy?" he asked.

Izzy pinched her nose and let out a heavy sigh. "Because as much as it pains me to say, I know you, Ian. I may have hated you for a long time, and I may have thought you were a bit of a coward, but you were never a bad person. I mean, you betrayed me and stomped on my heart a little bit, but you were always unbearably fucking nice while doing it. And I don't want to carry that shit around with me anymore. The past is past, and you can't really move forward till you let it go. This is me letting it go."

Ian's mouth hung open a bit as she made her speech. "Did you actually just forgive me?" he asked incredulously.

Izzy pursed her lips, considering his words for a moment. "I guess so. I'm not saying that we're going to be friends or anything like that. We're both different people now, and honestly you're a bit of an overly emotional twat, but I guess now we can look back and remember the good stuff, ignoring the fucked up ending. Closure, you know? And you can stop feeling guilty and worrying about me. I'll be fine. And you'll be fine."

A wide smile covered Ian's face-a genuine one this time. "Alright," he said with a nod. "Alright that works." He let out that awkward single bark of laughter. "I can't believe I just had an entire conversation with you without hearing a single 'Doctor Who' or 'Star Trek' reference."

"Hey," she shouted, waving a threatening finger in his face. "I could always rescind me forgiveness."

"You wouldn't dare."

Izzy smirked at him and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I guess not. Anyways, I figure your balls are suffering from some kind of Karmic retribution. I kicked you about six times. You might want to check if can still have kids." Izzy stuck out her hand and he took it, giving it a strong, definitive shake. When she let go Izzy readjusted the strap of the bag on her shoulder. "I've got to get going. I' m going to be late for my community service."

Ian pressed his lips together and nodded. "I'll walk you out."

The two of them reached the front door and went their separate ways. As Izzy walked down the street, she felt lighter somehow, like a weight had been lifted. She had been carrying around the bitterness so long, so now that she let it all fall away, she felt different somehow. She felt ready to move forward. Except there was that one other little thing holding her back. Nathan. She hadn't let go of him yet. In spite of all the shit things he had said to her and how generally pissed she was at him, and the fact that he paraded attractive brunettes around in front of her, she still had those fucking inconvenient little feelings.

Then she heard a voice behind her.

"Hey Bels," Ian shouted from about a block behind her, "if you're still upset about that whole 'bailing you out' thing, you could always just pay me back!"

Izzy laughed and shook her head at him. "You never were funny!"

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Walking into the community center, Izzy had a sort of empty feeling emerge in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was the aftermath of that party still sort of haunting the place. It had really been a shit night. Everybody had left miserable. At least everyone but Simon. From what she heard over the phone, he had that sort of muted excitement going on.

Izzy wound through the hallways until she finally got to the locker room. Rounding that set of lockers so she could reach her own, she saw the back of Nathan's head. He was in there alone, leaning with his forehead resting against the metal of the locker in front of him. Remembering all of the anxiety and panic of the previous day, Izzy felt a wave of anger wash through her. She marched up to him ready to make good on her promise to punch him in the nose, but as she got closer, something stopped her. His eyes were red and bloodshot. But it wasn't the kind of bloodshot you get from sleeplessness or from doing a shitload of drugs. It was the kind of bloodshot you get when you've been crying.

"Nathan?" she asked hesitantly.

He rolled his head against the metal of the lockers until he was looking at her. Once he did, his eyes snapped to the angry bruising pattern on her neck and wrists. "Jesus fucking Christ," he swore, taking a few steps towards her. "What happened to you."

Izzy quickly pulled her long, red, still damp hair out of it's usual ponytail and let it cascade down on her shoulders, readjusting it so that it covered the offending spots on her neck. "It's nothing. The power reversal thing made someone attack me. I'm fine." She took a step towards him, closing the distance between them a little more. "Where have you been, Nathan?" she asked in a low, plaintive voice. Izzy fixed him under a concerned gaze that made him shift in his spot and break eye contact. She wouldn't let him though. She took another step forwards and moved herself into his plane of vision. "Seriously, Nathan. I left you half a dozen messages. You're immortal, so with the power reversal I though that-I was worried. Why didn't you call back?"

"Oh, I was just busy hanging out with my dead brother."

Izzy froze. "What are you talking about?"

He let out a humorless laugh and raised his eyebrows. "I can see dead people. So there's a thing."

Izzy opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to think of how to respond. "Nathan, I-"

Nathan collapsed backwards, falling against the lockers. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at his feet. "Jamie and Lilly were shaggin' in this car and if fuckin' exploded. Lilly's got this power-she caught fire and then boom. Dead. I guess if you're gonna die, death by shaggin' isn't the worst way to go. Then I see Jamie standin' there losin' his shit an' he convinces me to go off to dad's for some fuckin' reconciliation. Turns out he was dead the whole time. Then the little fucker got me an' dad to go have breakfast or some shit like that. What kind of fucked up family reunion is that?"

Izzy exhaled sharply, staring absently at nothing while her brain processed the information. When she finally looked up again, he was staring at her, like he was waiting for her to say something. Izzy furrowed her eyebrows, letting the confusion and sympathy she felt cover her face. He was sharing this with her. He was sharing all of it. It was so out of character for him, she was a little frightened. "Why are you telling me this, Nathan?" she asked carefully.

He let out another bark of bitter laughter and shook his head, staring back at his feet again. "You've got to tell someone, don't you? This whole 'shit we don't talk about' file was gettin' a little full. And I figured with you losin' your mum and your brother, you'd get it." He closed his eyes and ran his hands down his face. "I only knew him a couple of days."

She couldn't stand it. She couldn't fucking stand it. He just looked so...alone. Izzy closed the distance between them and pulled him away from the lockers, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. "It doesn't matter how long you knew him," she whispered into his shoulder, her voice thick with sympathy and regret. "He was your brother. The two of you-you looked after each other and now he's gone. And I'm sorry, Nathan. I'm so fucking sorry."

It took a while, but soon enough his arms tightened around her as well, pulling her closer in to him and burying his head in her hair. His hands fisted the fabric of her shirt as he held on. It was almost like she was his lifeline, keeping him tethered to real world. "I thought you didn't hug people," he mumbled into her shoulder, his voice rough.

"Well, I'm making a fucking exception," she mumbled back.

The two of them stood there for a long time. Well actually Izzy wasn't sure how long it was. It could've been minutes, it could have been hours. To say it had been days was so obviously hyperbolic that she opted not to go with that. Anyways the point was they were standing there for a long time, neither of them giving any sign of wanting to let go. It was like Izzy was trying to squeeze it out of him, to draw it away from him-the pain, that is. Nathan was so unlike himself, it made her sick to her stomach.

Eventually, though, Nathan did pull away, taking a step back from her. They were still standing close though, and his green eyes were boring into her hazel ones with an intensity that made her squirm. He didn't say anything. He just studied her face with an expression that usually belonged to someone considering their options.

Izzy let out a heavy sigh and looked at her feet. "Nathan, I-"

Her words of comfort were cut off as Nathan took that one step forwards and grabbed the back of her neck and pulling her face up to meet his and crashing his lips onto hers. Izzy was still for a moment, not believing was happening. Soon enough, though, she started to kiss him back.

Nathan cupped her cheeks, softly running his thumbs over the skin as their lips moved together. Izzy pulled his hands from her face and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down and deepening the kiss. Nathan's arms moved down to her waist, encircling it and pulling her closer in. He lifted her up slightly, her toes skimming the ground. Izzy gasped out a breath and played with the hair at the nape of his neck while clutching at the collar of his jumpsuit, trying to steady herself. He placed her back down on ground and pulled away for a moment, letting out heaving breaths and studying her face searchingly, trying to gauge her reaction. Izzy stared back, still in shock, unsure of what was happening and what it meant. It couldn't have been more than two seconds before Nathan embedded his hands in her loose hair and brought her in for another kiss, slowly walking her backwards until her back slammed into the lockers behind them. Izzy couldn't think, but she didn't want to. She arched into him, ignoring the slight ache from where she hit the metal wall behind her. Their lips stayed connected for what felt like an eternity. Nathan's hands rested on her hips, rubbing circles absently in the skin right above her jeans. When they finally pulled apart, they were both gasping for air. Nathan leaned his forehead against hers, both of their eyes still closed. They were both panting, trying to catch their breath, letting that air mix between them. When Izzy finally built up the courage to open her eyes, Nathan was staring at her with an unreadable expression.

Izzy opened her mouth to say something, anything, but before she could there was a clattering noise from somewhere behind them.

"Oh."

Izzy pulled back and looked over Nathan's shoulder. A pang of something-was it fear? shock?-rang through her body as her eyes fell on a very surprised, flabbergasted Simon.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't realize."

Nathan swore loudly and slammed his head into the locker above Izzy's shoulder. "Jesus fucking Christ, Barry!"

Her heart still pounding, Izzy slid out from where she was pressed between Nathan and the lockers. "What is it, Simon?" she asked in the steadiest voice she could manage.

"N-nothing," he spouted out quickly. "It's just, like I said earlier, the guy in the mask. I-I followed him. I know where he lives."

"Yeah?" Nathan responded hostilely, still leaning against the lockers. "What do you want us to do about it?"

Simon's face scrunched up making him look almost angry. "I think we should go 'round and talk to him!"

"Right," Izzy said in a voice louder, and a bit more high pitched than usual. "Right, I agree. We should definitely do that. I'll go tell the others."

Izzy walked straight out of the locker room, pulling her loose hair back up into a ponytail, and not looking back. She couldn't think. She still couldn't think.

Nathan had kissed her. No introduction, no exposition, no prelude or whatever-he had just kissed her. And it was fucking incredible. But why had he done it? Why wait till now, right after his brother had died? Was it part of the grieving process-some way to try and connect himself to something, anything? To make him feel like he was still alive? She couldn't be sure. She could never be sure.

It was only when she had gotten outside and seen the others that Izzy realized that she hadn't changed into her jumpsuit. She was a little afraid to go back to the locker room, but by the time she got back, it was empty.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

After a day during which both Izzy and Nathan were probably suspiciously quiet, the six of them headed out, following Simon to wherever it was that he was taking them. Izzy was tense. Each time she moved, it was jerky and deliberate. She felt like there was somebody watching her, which occasionally was actually the case. Simon was being so fucking obvious about it, staring between her and Nathan the way he was. And Nathan, she felt like he was looking at her as well. But as with all things relating to Nathan, she could never be sure. Each time she turned towards him, his head was moving away from her. Did he regret it? Was that what this was?

Eventually they arrived at plain-looking flat, virtually indistinguishable from the other ones surrounding it. The entire building had the general blockiness of a kids Lego structure. It seemed like a fucking depressing place to live. Not that Izzy could throw any stones as to styling choices. They came up to a white door with windows in the paneling that was heavily stained with dirt. Alisha walked up to it, blew out a heavy breath, and gave the doorbell a single, determined push. And then they waited. And waited. And waited.

"Looks like nobody's home," Izzy said shortly.

Alisha folded her arms across and turned to face the others, shrugging her shoulders noncommittally. "So what do we do now?"

All of the sudden, Kelly moved forwards, grabbing a stool sitting nearby, and used the legs to smash in the glass and giving rise to a loud clattering noise.

"Jesus!" Nathan screeched moving back a bit as glass flew everywhere.

"Aw, subtle," Curtis moaned, rolling his eyes heavily. "I'm sure nobody heard that."

Izzy pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "Seriously? I can pick locks. It would've taken a minute and a half. Tops."

Kelly just turned around and smirked back at them, shrugging her shoulders. She reached in through the broken glass and unlocked the deadbolt on the other side, letting the door swing open. The lot of them piled in, crushing the glass beneath their feet as they walked.

The flat definitely wasn't a bat cave. Hell, it wasn't even a man cave. There was no evidence of the guy in mask anywhere. What there was evidence of was an excess of was various colors of leopard-print underwear.

"Dis is a girl's bedroom," Kelly said, holding up a brightly colored strapless dress.

Alisha let out a heavy snort. "What, so now we're sayin' he's a cross-dresser?"

Simon blew out a long breath, clearly frustrated with how things were turning out. "Something's wrong."

"It probably isn't his flat," Izzy said in a tired-sounding voice. "He probably realized you were following him and broke into this one as a diversion or whatever."

"I'm goin' to take a shit in his bed!" Nathan declared suddenly. Izzy wheeled around to look at him, her face pinched in revulsion.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Izzy demanded loudly. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

Nathan just shrugged, a weirdly giddy smile covering his face and started to unbuckle his trousers. There was a collective groan of disgust from the rest of the group, including her. "I don't you should do that," Simon said simply, a grimace tugging at his lips.

"We need to send a message," Nathan said, pointing at each of them. "We need to let him know that he can't fuck with us!"

"And how does takin' a shit in his bed do that exactly?" Curtis asked, his lip curling.

"Well they did it in 'The Godfather'!"

"That was a horse's head," Izzy and Simon said simultaneously.

Nathan narrowed his eyes at them. "Well have either of you nerds got a horse's head?" Then he started yanking hi trousers down to his ankles, making the lot of them file out of the room, more than one of them mumbling obscenities under their breath.

"Izzy's right," Simon said in a disappointed voice as he paced around the front room. "This isn't his flat."

Curtis let out a loud groan and left his seat on the the sofa. "You know what?" he said angrily. "I'm done." He took several angry steps towards the door. Izzy's eyes flickered after him, and noticed a shadow at the door. A small, girl-shaped shadow.

"WAIT!" she shouted loudly after him, like that would help the situation.

Curtis turned back to shoot her a weird, questioning look, and by the time he turned back around the door was being slowly pushed open by a pretty girl with light brown skin and short dark hair. The alarm in Izzy's head started going off, but not before she heard Curtis say two wistful and highly confusing words. "It's you."

"Who are you?" the girl demanded angrily. "Why are you in my flat?"

At this point, Izzy really didn't think matters could get any worse than they already were, but somehow they managed to get there.

"Can someone get me some toilet paper?"

Shit. Literally. Izzy dashed back into the bedroom where Nathan was still crouched over the bed. "Pull you're pants up, idiot," she hissed anxiously. "We've got to go."

"What, without wiping?" he demanded in an affronted tone. "I'm not some animal!"

Izzy rolled her eyes quickly. "Like you've never shat yourself before," she bit back sarcastically. "The fucking owner's here. We've got to bail!"

She ran to the back door leading out to a balcony with Nathan following her, tripping over his trousers as he tried to follow her. She quickly made her way to the railing and swung her legs over the side. It was only the second floor. Not too much of a jump.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Nathan shouted at her, finally managing to zip up the fly of his jeans. Izzy glanced back at him over her shoulder and smiled, shooting him a quick wink before pushing herself off the edge. She landed on her feet with a loud thump. There was a bit of soreness radiating from her feet up into her shins, but nothing significant. She looked back up at the balcony and saw Nathan leaning over the edge, gaping a bit. "Come on, you pussy!" she shouted at him, before taking off down the street. Nathan made a face at her, but followed soon enough. She could hear the pounding of his shoes against the pavement not too far behind her. After about five minutes of running she skidded to a halt, leaning over at the waist and gasping to catch her breath. He came to a stop as well, almost running into her. They both stood there for a moment, panting, but then for some reason they both bust out laughing.

Eventually Izzy managed to stand up straight and planted her hands on her hips, her sides hurting from the laughter and the physical exertion. Then Nathan caught her eye and the laughter fell away as abruptly as it started.

"I should go change my trousers," he said, gesturing in the general direction of the community center.

Izzy nodded frantically, her breaths still coming in sharply at random interval. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

Nathan's jaw clenched and he nodded once before turning and walking away from her. Izzy felt that swooping feeling of regret. It hit her like somebody had just punched her in the stomach.

"Hey, Nathan?" she called out, her voice cracking a bit as she did. He stopped and turned to face her, looking at her expectantly. Izzy bit her lip and bounced up and down on her heels nervously. "We're good, right?"

Then that trademark, cheeky grin spread widely over his face. "You and me, Ginger? We're always good."

And then he turned away again, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking into the distance with that casual swagger of his, leaving Izzy with the distinct impression that she had made a mistake. She just wasn't sure what it was.

**BOOM! So now the first kiss has happened, but these characters are too emotionally clueless and I'm way to fond of drama for that to be the end of it. But when it does come around, I can guarantee that it will be awesome. Also, with the next chapter I will be starting episode 3, so I can guarantee that hilarity will ensue.**

**In the meantime, PLEASE REVIEW! Love it? Hate it? Want to light the pages on fire and stick them in my purse? Let me know. This is one of those chapters where I really, really, REALLY want to hear your responses. So if you enjoy this story, please show your support. Review!  
**

**P.S. Phaex, once again, you are a wizard. I've had that kiss scene planned since I first started writing the first chapter, and you totally called it!**


	29. Awkward Silence

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, angelcakes, Ghostess with the Mostess, jadlynn, ChayagraceDaya, witchbaby300, incitanemxx, LittleGee, Bethh, Adela, Sunflowers in Moscow, and Lady Shagging Godiva for reviewing.**

**Wow! A lot of milestones with this chapter. 200 reviews, 150,000 words, 50 favorites, you guys are spoiling me. Thank you so much for all the continued support. You guys are the absolute best.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show.**

Chapter 29 – Awkward Silence

"We're good."

It was just two little words. Well, technically it was three words if you included the conjunction, but still. They were seemed so small, innocuous, and inconsequential. "We're good." The phrase was easy to parse apart, to pull apart and put back together. It should be simple, right? It shouldn't be all that difficult to understand, should it? Well as far as Izzy was concerned, the joke was on her, because those two words had her really fucking confused.

"We're good."

On the exterior it was true. She and Nathan hadn't missed a beat. There was still all that bantering and good-hearted insults were still flying in every direction, but under the surface something had changed since that kiss. Nobody else really seemed to pick up on it. Except for Simon of course, but that was only because he had had a front row seat for the theatrics. She caught the pale little bugger looking between her and Nathan sometimes, an expression of mild confusion on his face. Whenever she saw Simon doing that, Izzy wanted to slap him upside the head. She couldn't, though. It would arouse suspicion if she went around randomly hitting people that weren't Nathan. And Kelly hadn't found out yet. Izzy was grateful to Simon for that—for not letting Kelly find out—because God knows once she found out she would have one of her 'spontaneous outbursts', screeching so loud the entire Estate would find out about it. Now that would be awkward.

As much as Izzy hated to admit it, there was a change in the dynamic. It was like there was a river of awkward flowing between her and Nathan that was far, far too deep for either of them to wade through. And that feeling was especially poignant at that exact moment, as the six of them were shoved into their probation worker's tiny little clown car, being driven to fuck knows where. Alisha was sitting on Curtis's lap, being careful not to touch him, and in some ridiculous twist of awkwardness Simon ended up sitting on Kelly's lap. The true awkwardness in that car though, didn't come from either of those pairings, however ridiculous they might appear. It came from Izzy who found herself caught between the door and Nathan, and was trying very, very hard to keep her knee from knocking into his. She would never have even thought about anything like that before—it seemed so inconsequential—but in the context of everything that had happened, there was a sort of tension there. It was like there was static electricity crackling between them from the where they almost touched, and if they actually made contact she was going to get a nasty shock.

It probably didn't help that neither of them had actually said anything about it. Now, come to think of it, she hadn't actually said the words aloud. Jesus, they were shit at communicating. Why the fuck couldn't they just have a simple conversation about this sort of shit? That's right, because Nathan was an emotionally-stunted man-child and she was a damaged little girl with the social skills of an agoraphobic lobster. It was too late now anyway. How could you bring up a subject like that? "Hey, remember how we snogged each others faces off last week? What are your thoughts?" Nope. That wasn't an option.

Izzy sighed heavily, placed her chin on her hand and stared out the window as the lot that tiny little car bounced along the road, watching as the monotonous and never-ending road of dingy, grey buildings whizzed by. Until eventually it stopped. Where the fuck were they going? They were literally headed to the middle of nowhere. Was the probation worker dragging them to some isolated location where they could be shot execution-style? Well if that was the case, at least she wouldn't have to deal with the drama any more.

"Where the fuck are we going?" she called out from the back seat. "This isn't going to be some sort of 'Hunger Games' shit where you throw us in an arena and make us fight to the death is it? Because I've got plans later that I don't feel like missing."

No response. But then again she hadn't really expected one. This new probation worker didn't really seem keen to 'invest in their future' and all that crap. Hell, he hadn't even bothered telling them his name yet. Izzy didn't mind though. 'Prick' seemed to fit him just fine. Eventually the probation pulled off the road and started driving towards a mountain of trash. Izzy let out a snort and shook her head slightly. What a lovely way to spend the day.

As soon as the car came to a complete stop, Izzy practically jumped out, eager to rid herself of that perpetual feeling of awkwardness that seemed to be pinging back and forth between her and Nathan. But in her attempt to free herself, she tripped on the pitted, broken concrete beneath her feet, almost sending her crashing to the ground. She managed to pull herself straight and flushed slightly, turning her back to the others and marching off towards the giant pile of trash without a word. Ugh. Izzy didn't like this new version of herself. This version of herself was self-conscious, and quite frankly was annoying as hell.

Once they all made it to the giant pile of crap, the probation worker gave a slightly disgusted-sounding sigh and gave them all the once over. "All this shit in that skip," he deadpanned, waving his arm about vaguely.

"Would it kill you to dress it up a bit?" Curtis demanded in a snotty tone.

The probation worker looked over at Curtis and sneered slightly. "Put all this shit in that skip. Please."

Nathan scoffed heavily from his position a few yards to the left of Izzy and rolled his eyes heavily. "Sometimes I wonder if you take this job entirely seriously," he spat out bitterly. Izzy chewed on the inside of her cheek. Nathan seemed to be in a bit of a mood, and she felt like she was slightly responsible.

The probation worker narrowed his eyes at Nathan, otherwise his face stayed as blank as ever. "I am one hundred percent committed to your…ongoing rehabilitation," he replied in a deadened voice, smacking his gum dramatically. "It occupies my every waking minute." He raised his eyebrows and that smug little smirk found its way back onto his face. Izzy probably would have found him funny if he wasn't such a pervy old twat. He shot her a quick wink before turning around and heading back to his car. It made her physically gag, leaving her with the distinct impression that she needed another shower.

"Uh, where are ya goin'?" Kelly shouted at his retreating figure.

"For a coffee and a Danish!"

Izzy made a face at the retreating figure while Nathan mumbled 'smug bastard' under his breath. Turning away from the fleeing car, the scowl that was already on Izzy's face deepened so that it may as well have been etched in stone. They were surrounded by piles and piles of potential biohazards. Of all the shit they had had to do, this was quite possible the shittiest.

Alisha sighed heavily and looked at the Mad Max-themed wasteland they were being subjected to. "Well this is big load of wank."

"Now come on, Alisha," Izzy mumbled, wrinkling her nose at the mouldy old T-shirt she had picked up off the ground, suddenly incredibly grateful for those ridiculous black rubber gloves even though they. "That's entirely unfair to all the other loads of wank out there. We need to come up with a new term to describe this sort of shit." She tossed the shirt into the skip and it hit the metal with a disgusting wet thwack.

They milled around for a bit, alternating between actually doing work and absently and ineffectively kicking around bits of rubbish. Izzy fished her iPod out of her pockets and shoved one of the earphones into her ear, letting to other one dangle as she waited for someone, anyone, to come up with some sort of conversation. The quiet was making her feel self-conscious again.

"Ha! Nice!"

Izzy turned from the massive pile of old newspapers that somehow seemed to have melted together in the rain and turned to find Nathan standing by an old, empty fridge, beaming at a can of beer he had somehow managed to find. He popped the lid open, not bothering to remove the plastic rings still around the lid, and took a long drink. "Want some?" he asked, holding it out to Izzy.

Nathan started waving the can back and forth in her face, making her wrinkle nose. Warm beer abandoned by the wayside? Fuck it. To get through a day like today, she would need at least a little bit of alcohol to get through it. She grabbed it and took a long, slurping sip before feeling it being yanked out of her hand.

"Hey, hey, hey," Nathan shouted, cradling the thing to his chest defensively like it was an adorable puppy that had just been kicked. "No need to go hoggin' the thing." He brought the can up to his lips and started gulping it down theatrically.

"Who's hogging it now?" she asked, watching his Adam's apple bob up and down as he chugged the drink down. "Jesus, why don't you just shotgun the fucking thing and be done with it?"

He just waggled his eyebrows, continuing to chug until the can was empty. And then he belched in her face. Loudly.

"Ugh," Izzy mumbled, waving the stench out of her face. "Was that really necessary?" Nathan just shot her a cheeky smile and tossed the can on the ground, making Izzy roll her eyes. "And now you're littering. Do we really have to make more work for ourselves than there already is?"

"Aw, come on, Ginger," he replied through a loud groan. "Stop makin' that angry badger face of yours. I'm just tryin' to make this shit a little more interestin'." He blew out a long breath and stretched, but she could still see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. "So what are you doin' later?" he asked in a casual tone that sounded vaguely forced.

Izzy shrugged, also with carefully constructed casualness. "Nothing much. Kelly and I are going to get our tattoos touched up. There's this guy Vince on the Estate. He's friends with an old foster brother of mine. And I'm about 95% sure he's got the hots for Kelly."

The girl in question, who was standing only a few meters away, glared at Izzy like she was trying to set her on fire with his mind and then proceeded to flick her off, making the red-head snicker loudly. "Come on, Kelly. It's not my fault he wants to bear your children."

"Sounds painful," Nathan said, smiling slightly. "Maybe I should come by and hold your hand while you start crying like a hungry, angry baby or some other girly shit."

Izzy raised her eyebrows and let out a derisive snort. "I don't cry," she replied sarcastically. "Crying is only acceptable at funerals and while watching 'Field of Dreams'."

"Field of Dreams?"

"I'm human aren't I?" Izzy grabbed the beer can he tossed aside and threw it in the skip. She turned back to face Nathan and stared at him a moment in consideration. They hadn't really hung out outside of their community service since the incident for obvious reasons, and if Izzy was being honest, she kind of hated it. She missed the curly-haired twat and his ridiculous commentary. Small steps forward, right? So she smiled and nodded a bit. "Yeah, you can come."

"Cool, man," he said lightly, leaning against the fridge. Izzy pulled at the giant rubber gloves on her hands and grabbed some trash and headed towards the skip, but then Nathan's voice rang out again, calling after her. "So this tattoo of yours, where exactly is it?"

Izzy closed her eyes in frustration and grabbed a crumpled can, turning around and throwing it at him. There was a dull thud and a resounding shout of 'OW!' as it hit him squarely between the eyes. A self-satisfied smirk formed on her face as she spun on her heel and marched off.

The rest of the day progressed fairly normally. Six shitheads doing a shitty jobn nobody sane would ever do. Nathan prattled on—that boy could talk more and say less than anybody else on the face of the planet—, Curtis and Alisha flirted, and Simon spent most of the day standing awkwardly a little ways away from the rest of them. There was one interesting thing that happened, though. Alisha went over to talk to Simon. She actually sought him out. That struck Izzy as….odd. Alisha never spoke to Simon. Ever. Well she did, but it was always incidental, in large group conversations. And now she was walking up to him while he stood there, awkwardly holding the bottom half of a mannequin. Hence confusion. Izzy tried to edge closer to invade their privacy or whatever, but before she got the chance Alisha was already stomping off in the opposite direction. Curioser and curioser. Izzy squinted in their direction, and noticed that Simon seemed just as confused as she did.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

The probation worker didn't bother showing up again, the smug, lazy bastard, so they left a bit early for the tattoo parlor. It was Izzy, Kelly, Nathan, and Simon, who had decided to tag along as well for some undisclosed reason. They came up to the building, the name 'Vince's Tattoos' painted in huge, imposing letters on the brick, and entered through the door hidden at the center of the last 'O'.

"Hey, Vince," Izzy shouted as she pushed the door open. The place wasn't much to look at—it seemed more like a garage than anything else with the dim, fluorescent lighting and unpainted walls. It was fairly plain except for the…artwork. That artwork being various and sundry photos of Vince's work featured on every part of his body. Nathan of course, immediately gravitated to the giant photo of a barbed-wire wrapped cock, gaping at it with a massively traumatized look on his face.

"Close your mouth, dear," she said, grabbing hold of his chin and forcing mouth shut. "You don't want to go giving people the wrong impression."

The back door opened and Vince stuck his head out, a wide, toothy, and slightly pervy looking grin appearing on his face when he caught sight of Kelly.

"Izzy," he growled out in that low voice of his. "Has that little shit finished with my car yet? The thing's been in the garage for almost a week now and still nothing. If it takes much longer I'm goin' to have to go over there and kick Max's arse."

Izzy rolled her eyes as she stripped off the flannel overshirt to reveal the tattoo. "No, Vince, it's not done yet," she said through a sigh and she moved towards the seat with the needles.

"That brother of yours is lookin' to have someone mess up that pretty face of his."

"It's going to take a while longer to get the parts in," she said hopping onto the seat. "I've seen it, and you've seriously fucked up your transmission. Word of advice: stop hitting on girls be offering to teach them how to drive stick. It's a terrible pun, and it's sending your car straight to the junkyard."

Izzy started humming under her breath as the needle dug into her shoulder, filling in all the faded bits of those seven tick marks. She was grateful to Vince for not mentioning those little circular burn scars he was covering up with the black ink. They had started to show a bit, and she didn't like the reminder. Izzy ignored the sting and stared forwards at Nathan and Simon, who were still ogling the giant photo of Vince's cock. Sure it was distracting and more than a bit disturbing, but in Izzy's opinion there really was no excuse for staring at another man's penis with that much intensity for that long a period of time.

" 'Ey, Simon, you should get one of these," Kelly suggested from her position in the corner.

Simon glanced nervously between the photos and Vince and gave a small, decisive shake of his head. "I have a phobia of needles."

Vince looked over at Kelly and put on another smile that was probably meant to be flirty, but actually just ended up looking menacing. "So I haven't seen you around town lately."

Kelly shrugged a bit in response. "Got curfew."

Vince opened his mouth the say something else, but was promptly cut off be a borderline belligerent Nathan. "Whose cock is this?" he demanded, jerking his thumb in the direction of the photo.

Vince froze, the ink needle just resting against the skin of Izzy's shoulder. She let out a sharp breath and closed her eyes, hoping with all she had that Nathan would, for once in his life, shut the fuck up. At least while the bloke was drawing permanent doodles on her back with sharp implements. She could feel Vince tense up a bit, and when he finally spoke, his voice came out low and deadly.

"It's mine."

Nathan, always one to make the worst possible decision regardless of the circumstances let out a weirdly giddy laugh. "Really?" he said through a snort. "I'm not being funny, but why would you do something like that to yourself?"

"It expresses how I felt about my girlfriend when she left me."

Nathan let out a loud scoff. "You couldn't just get drunk and sleep with a prostitute?"

Vince exhaled sharply and narrowed his eyes at Nathan. "One of these," he said, gesturing to his tattoos, "means something to me. When I ink my skin, I feel it."

"So you feel like your ex stole your cock?" Nathan deadpanned. "Hey, man. Whatever gets you off." And then he just turned and walked away, making Izzy roll her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the space of about an hour.

A few minutes later, Vince finished retouching Izzy's tattoo, slapping on a bandage, and she practically threw herself out of the chair, happy to be out of that increasingly uncomfortable situation. Pulling on her flannel shirt, she made a mental note to check the tattoo when she got to her flat, just to be sure that Vince hadn't taken out some sort of revenge-by-proxy by drawing a penis on her shoulder or some shit like that. Kelly pushed herself off the wall and ambled over to the chair and sat down, pointing out the tattoo on her lower back, just above the rise of her jeans. And Vince seemed to be having a fantastic time staring at it. And running his fingers over it. Izzy cringed internally. Something about that guy always made her skin crawl a little.

"Hey, Izzy," Nathan shouted, waving her over to one of the photos—a tattoo of a rose. "Would you fancy me even more if I had this, or does it look a bit gay to you?" Izzy involuntarily slammed her fist into her forehead and glanced over at Vince who was wearing that rose very proudly on his neck. Nathan, whose eyes followed the direction of hers, made a facsimile of an apologetic expression. Not that he was fooling anybody. He was about an inch from busting out laughing. "Oh," he said, cringing theatrically. "I mean it would look gay on me, just 'cause I've got a beautiful face, but you get away with it, with your face – I'm not sayin' you're ugly, er – you've looked in the mirror. No offense, man."

For a second Izzy thought Vince was going to leap across the table and stab Nathan in the fucking eye with that needle. But he didn't. Instead he just glanced over his shoulder at Simon who was inspecting some of the other photos, and smirked in an unnervingly self-satisfied way. "None taken."

Izzy eyed him suspiciously. Soon enough Kelly was finished, not before Vince asked her out, though. They paid and Izzy practically dragged Nathan to the door on the chance that Vince might change his mind and beat Nathan to a bloody pulp. It was actually surprising that Nathan actually managed not to have the ever-loving shit kicked out of him on a regular basis. He really had no instinct for self-preservation, and he was shit at fighting. Hell, Izzy had considered taking a few jabs herself. As they made it out of the shop, Izzy was pulling him after her, grabbing at the sleeve of his jacket like she was a parent marching their child off to be scolded.

"Slow your roll there, Ginger," he shouted, ripping his arm away from her. "We've got to wait for Simon."

Izzy snorted loudly and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Since when did you have manners?" she asked, poking him in the side. "It's making me uncomfortable."

The two of them waited as Kelly and Simon caught up, and as they approached a silly sort of smile. "Sooooooo," Nathan drawled as the four of them walked down the street, "how's about you and me go get a drink?"

Izzy pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I guess. I wouldn't mi—"

"Who's askin' you?" Nathan shouted back, cutting her off.

"Er, you are?"

"No, I'm not, I was talkin' to him," he said, gesturing at Simon, who was left there looking very confused. "Look, this is more of a boy's night. We're talkin' some quality man-time. Beer, football, maybe some wrestlin'."

"Why are ya bein' such a dick?" Kelly spluttered angrily.

Nathan glared back at her, looking positively scandalized. "Come on, man," he said, wrapping an arm around Simon and pulling him along with him. "Let's go watch some wrestlin'. We don't need them."

Izzy stopped walking and watched as the two of them walked off. Nathan kept his arm around Simon's shoulders and she could hear the vague mumbling sound as he blathered on. "Huh."

"Uh, wot da fock woz dat about?" Kelly growled, gesturing off after the two of them.

Izzy squinted after them and shrugged her shoulders. "We wanted Nathan to stop teasing him. Maybe this is the beginning of a fucked up little friendship."

"Yeah," Kelly replied quietly. "Maybe you're right."

Izzy blew out a long, slow breath and glanced over at the girl next to her. "Fancy a pint?"

Kelly made a face and kept watching after the boys. "Yeah, awright."

"We can talk about you and Vince and how the two of you are going to have beautiful, tattooed babies with freakishly big teeth." If looks could kill, the one Kelly shot her was a freaking massacre. It was probably meant to intimidate, but the only effect was making Izzy's smirk widen into a massive shit-eating grin. "Oh, come on, Kelly. You two can go for a drink and see where it takes you. He inks what he feels right? If it goes well then maybe he'll tattoo a giant picture of you're face on his left arsecheek. How romantic would that be?"

Kelly glowered at her. "Why don' you go fo—"

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

On her way back to her flat after getting a pint with Kelly, an outing during which she in no way made fun of her and her future children, Izzy's phone suddenly rang, blasting out the strains of the Doctor Who theme song. She fumbled around in her pocket until her fingers closed around the screeching machine and pulled it out of her pocket. Simon's name was flashing across the screen. Punching the 'send' button she held it up to her ear.

"Hey, Simon," she said into the receiver. "How was guy's night? Did Nathan make you reenact the finer plot points of 'The Hangover' yet?" She paused for a moment, waiting for some sort of response, but all she was met with was dead silence. "Earth to Simon. Are you having a stroke or something?"

"There's something wrong with Nathan," his disembodied voice mumbled out.

"Yeah, we've all known that for a while," she replied through a scoff. "Hazards of being a twat and all that."

"N—no," he stuttered into the phone. "No, something's happened to him. He's—"

"Did he get his head stuck through the bars in the railing again? Just get a jar of peanut butter or something out of the pantry. His head'll just pop right out again."

"He kissed me!"

Well that wasn't expected. Izzy pulled her phone from her ear, partly to make sure it was, in fact a phone and she wasn't a crazy person talking into a banana. Because that seemed just about as likely as what Simon just said had happened actually happening. She gaped at the phone a while before bringing it back up to her ear. "Simon, are you taking the piss?"

"He put his tongue in my mouth," he clarified. Izzy could hear the cringe in his voice.

Izzy's face scrunched up in confusion. None of this made any sort of sense. Nathan was not gay. Nope. Not with the way he had kissed her. There was just no fucking way. "Are you sure, Simon?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, no offense or anything, but I really don't see you as his type. You know, with the penis and everything."

"He tried to take my trousers off!" he shouted into the phone. "He said he wanted to do some….dry humping."

Izzy's mouth opened and closed, like a fish dying on the floor of a boat. And then she realized that she had come to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk, with people brushing past her ad looking at her like she was an absolute loon. Shaking her head in frustration and pinching the bridge of her nose, she stared at the phone again. "I'm going to stop by the community center and….figure this shit out."

Izzy hung up the phone without waiting for Simon's response and did an about face, taking quick steps back to the community center. She approached the usual window—the one Nathan always left unlocked—and rolled in, collapsing into a heap on the other side. Scrambling to her feet, she brushed herself off and made her way to Nathan's self-proclaimed bedroom. Before she even could even push open the door to the lobby she could hear the sound of 'All By Myself' echoing against the walls.

"Nathan?" she shouted hesitantly. But there was no response. She crossed the room and made her way up the stairs. When she got to the top, she wasn't sure whether she should cry, cringe, or bust out laughing. Nathan was lying on his mattress, shirtless, staring at the ceiling and mouthing the words to the song. "Jesus fucking Christ, Nathan!" she said, prodding him with the toe of her shoe. "This looks like a fucking crime scene! What happened to you?"

He let out a long, slow, tortured breath. "My heart hurts."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Love, Ginger," he replied, shooting her a quick glance before staring back at the ceiling. "I'm talkin' about love. I thought it was supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows and new-born puppies and shit. It's not. It's like there's a hole inside me that no amount of chocolate and crisps can fill. Maybe cake would work."

Izzy let out a sigh of frustration and shook her head. For the first time in a long time, she was actually at a loss for words. And then her eyes fell on a crumpled up piece of paper in his left hand.

"Nathan, why are you holding a photo of Simon's mugshot?"

He brought the picture to his face and smoothed it out, letting his fingers linger on photo-Simon's cheek. "I got it from the files in the office downstairs. It's the only one I've got. His eyes…it's like he can see me. The real me. Deep into my soul."

Izzy was about to start swearing creatively and vociferously, but then Nathan flipped over on his stomach, studying the picture and kicking his feet back and forth like a teenage girl staring wistfully at a photo of her celebrity crush. And that's when she saw the tattoo—the new one. It was Simon's name inside a huge, red heart. The gears started turning in her head until they all snapped into place. She had to shove her fist in her mouth to keep from busting out laughing. Oh, this was too good. Vince might be a pervy old creep, but he seemed to have a semi-decent sense of humor.

"Nathan, when did you get that tattoo?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He looked back at her over his shoulder in confusion until that bright, red tattoo caught his eye as well. "Huh," he muttered, running his fingers over it absently. "I don't even remember gettin' that done. I'm glad I did, though. When you feel like this, you just have to let the world know, you know?"

"Yeah," she said, choking back laughter. "Yeah, I get that. So when did these feelings start."

He flipped over again and lay on his back, pressing that photo of Simon to his heart. "It just hit me, you know? I was lookin' at him, and then BAM! It was like I was seein' everything for the first time. Love hurts, man. I put myself out there and he crushed me. I'm all crumpled and gross. It's like someone's taken a shit on my heart."

Izzy pressed her lips together and nodded in understanding. This really was just too good. If there was anything in this world that could cure her of feeling self-conscious around Nathan, him mooning over Simon would definitely do the trick. Izzy crouched down next to Nathan who had his eyes closed and was moaning theatrically, and put a comforting hand on his shoulders. "Hey, man, how about I go nick some booze and ice cream from the kitchens. We'll pop in a sappy movie and talk it out. Just us girls."

Nathan pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes. "What's it like bein' heartbroken, Ginger?" he asked in a far-away voice. "I'm sure it's happened to you plenty of times. Does it ever get any better?"

Izzy bit the inside of her cheek till it bled a bit, filling her mouth with that metallic taste. Trying to keep a straight face was going to be really, really fucking hard. "I'll go get that ice cream," she said in a patronizing voice, patting him on the cheek. Izzy quickly descended the stairs, snickering to herself as he heard 'All By Myself' start over again. This was going to be fun.

Maybe she was going to hell, but she going to have a really fucking good time on the way.

**So there's chapter 29! I hope you liked it. Anyways, here's to the beginning of my favorite episode of Misfits. Ever. I hope I did it justice.**

**If you get the 'agoraphobic lobster' reference, you're one of my favorite people ever.**

**Oh, and I know it might seem odd that Kelly doesn't know what's going on, being a telepath and all that, but she seems to miss out on a lot during the show itself even with telepathy. She didn't know about Simon killing the first probation worker or about future!Simon from Alisha, so I figure sometimes she just doesn't pay any attention. I know it seems a little unrealistic, but I figured I could use the same 'suspension of disbelief' as the show does. I just wasn't ready to have that many characters aware of what was going on yet.  
**

**And as for the whole Nathan's 'true love' thing, Izzy would have been upset (very upset) but she really didn't care all that much once she realized what was going on with Vince's power. After that...her reaction was the same as mine was: hysterical laughter. It does seem a bit mean, but Izzy's not perfect and to be clear, she fully intends on 'fixing' Nathan, but she's going to enjoy the time leading up to it. It's also a way to get them to lower their guard around each other.**

**Anywho, please review!**


	30. Love Hurts

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Lady Shagging Godiva, Adela, Sunflowers in Moscow, and Phaex for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

**Full disclosure, I shifted around some of the scenes in the show for this chapter. It fit the narrative better, so I decided to go ahead and do it.**

Chapter 30 – Love Hurts

"I don't know, Ginger, are you sure about this? I've never been good with—" Nathan started snapping, searching for the end of the sentence that seemed to just elude him.

"Words?" Izzy supplied, trying to keep that smile from creeping back onto her face. "You've never been good with words."

"Exactly!" he said, snapping his fingers one more time with finality and pointing at Izzy. "I mean, this kind of shit never was my strong suit. Is all this really necessary?"

Izzy pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "You want him to know how you feel, don't you? I think a letter would be a pretty good way to go about it."

Nathan moaned loudly and closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "He already knows how I feel, Ginger. I kissed him didn't I?"

Izzy's teeth clamped down hard on her lip, using the pain to force back the desire to let out howls of laughter. Instead she rearranged her face into an expression of sympathy and covered Nathan's hand with hers. "Just because you kissed him doesn't mean he knows how you feel," she replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Snogging and feelings aren't the same thing, Nathan. If you want Simon to know how you feel about him, then you have to tell him. Otherwise he might just think you're after his body."

At the mention of Simon's body, Nathan started staring off into the distance with misty-eyed wonder, no doubt imagining the body in question and all of the things he would do to it. "Anyways…." Izzy continued, "that's what they do in all of the great love stories. 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Persuasion'—"

"And 'The Notebook!" Nathan added in a giddy voice.

Izzy let out a light snort and patted him on the shoulder, a warm smile covering her face. "Yes, Nathan, just like in 'The Notebook'. I'll help if you want."

"Alright, then," he said, suddenly very, very excited. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together enthusiastically. "Let's do this thing!"

Izzy was going to hell. She was absolutely certain of it. This was the kind of shit that puts you on the fast track to the fiery pit, wasn't it? People usually say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but for her that definitely wasn't the case. Her intentions were anything but good. It was just so fucking funny. She and Nathan had stayed up most of the night watching 'Jerry Maguire' over and over again, eating ice cream, and drinking a not insignificant amount of rum while Nathan rambled on and on about how beautiful Simon's eyes were until their own exhaustion in combination with the alcohol lulled them to sleep.

When Izzy had woken up the following morning, there was a strange sense of déjà vu. She and Nathan had both fallen asleep on that makeshift mattress of his and the telly was blasting out the music from the menu screen of the movie. It was almost the same scene she had found herself after that night Nathan had stayed at her flat and she woke up with his arm around her waist. There was one significant difference, though. Instead of having his arm wrapped around her, Nathan was hugging his pillow tightly to his body and mumbling Simon's name in his sleep, along with some other fairly graphic descriptions of what he would like to do to that pillow. Or Simon. Izzy wasn't sure if she should laugh or gag at the things being said, so she opted to vacate the area as soon as possible and take a shower. And, once again, she was grateful for the change of clothes she kept in the bottom of her locker.

There was one good thing that arose out of this severely fucked up situation. Izzy didn't feel all self-conscious around Nathan anymore. It had gotten pretty bad before, actually. Every time she got within a five foot radius of him, it was like she was suddenly hyper-aware of his presence, like she could sense his location in relation to her own. She was always waiting for something to happen. She didn't know what that thing was or what her reaction to it would be, but she was always on edge—skittish even—and she suspected that Nathan was much the same way. Neither of them was all that good at this sort of thing. Izzy usually prided herself on being able to solve problems—give her the issue, the factors involved, and some time, she would come up with a logical solution. But this stuff—the emotional stuff—there was no logic to back it up, so she was completely lost. Now though, all that anticipation had been erased. Watching Nathan moon over Simon and his beautiful, penetrating eyes had a way of letting her guard down, now that the unknown and probably imaginary threat had been eradicated. The solutionless problem had disappeared. It may only be temporary, but now she could talk to him without being afraid of saying or doing something wrong.

They had been together the whole day—the probation worker split them into groups of two and assigned them various tasks in the general vicinity of the community center, so nobody else knew what was really going on. The day before they couldn't spend more than ten minutes in each other's company without things getting awkward, but now….

Anyways, that was how the two of them found themselves on the roof of the community center during their lunch break, writing a love letter to Simon. It probably wasn't the best or most functional way to renew the friendship or whatever, but it was working and Izzy decided not to question it. It was like old times again—Nathan would say something idiotic and mildly funny and she would mock him just the tiniest bit for it. Okay, more than a bit. Anyways, she was enjoying the ease with which they were interacting again, and once they went back to Vince and got Nathan fixed, the removal of the mental whammy would make him forget everything like it always seemed to and they would be right back where they were to begin with. Izzy wasn't looking forward to that. Not that she wasn't going to get Nathan fixed—of course she would, for Simon's sake at the very least—but she wanted a day or two of non-awkward time with Nathan before things had to go back.

Izzy was lying back on the sofa—as she always did—with her hands under her head and her legs dangling over the armrest, kicking back and forth as Nathan was reading her multiple drafts of his letter to Simon. Every once in a while she would put forth a few suggestions and he would incorporate them eagerly, smiling so widely it must have hurt at least a little bit.

"…..if you open your heart," Nathan's voice said longingly, "I know we could have something really beautiful. Yours, Nathan."

Izzy squinted up at the clouds above her as she considered his words. "You know what I think would be good," she said, waving a finger at him. "I think you should throw a 'forever' in there. Just so he knows that you're in it for the long haul."

Nathan bit his lip and nodded in agreement. "Alright then. Yours _forever, _Nathan."

Then all of the sudden there are a loud thump accompanied by a girly screech.

"Jesus, stop kickin' me!"

Izzy quickly swung her legs over the side of the sofa and sat up straight to see a seriously pissed off looking Kelly, looming over Nathan—who had fallen off his chair and onto the floor—like a dark cloud of hostility and pathological violence and jabbing a finger at him like she was trying to poke out an eye.

"Wot 'ave I told ya about dickin' around wiv Simon!" she shouted angrily, leaning in threateningly.

"Who's dickin' around?" Nathan demanded, his eyes widening with a strange sort of sincerity.

"You put you tongue in 'is mouth!" Kelly screamed, slapping him over the head.

"Ah! Jesus!" Nathan cried out as he scrambled backwards away from Kelly and got back to his feet. "Alright! Alright, so maybe I got a bit fresh with him. I was starin' into those big, beautiful eyes. He's like a—he's like a handsome shark! I couldn't help myself! I love him."

"Aw, you're a _dick_!" Kelly shouted, clenching her fists in frustration.

"Hey, hey, hey," Izzy said in a placating tone, rising to her feet and moving to stand between Kelly and Nathan. "There's no need for name calling here."

"Yeah," Nathan shouted, sounding highly affronted by Kelly's out burst. "And do my feelings for him offend you? Well I'm sorry! Because they're true, and pur—well, they're true! I can't pretend any longer—I won't!"

Nathan turned away from the two girls and stared across the estate, taking a deep cathartic breath. Kelly stared at Izzy with an expression somewhere between anger and confusion, and Izzy just shrugged back in response. Then all of the sudden Kelly's head snapped back to Nathan, gaping at him a bit. "Uh, dat's for 'Jerry Maguire'!" she growled at him, having apparently read his mind.

"Yeah, I know," Nathan said through a slight smile, turning around to face them again. "Izzy and I watched it four times last night. It's like he's Tom and I'm Renee. Someone else is the ugly, speccy kid."

"I'm the ugly speccy kid," Izzy threw in, raising her hand. Once again Kelly looked at her like she was a complete raving loon. Scoffing heavily, Kelly fixed Nathan under her glare. "Are you tryin' to tell me you're gay or somefin'?"

Nathan rolled his eyes theatrically. "Gay, straight, retarded—why do we have to put labels on everything?"

"Yeah, seriously Kelly," Izzy replied, folding her arms across her chest. "Not everyone can fit into your neat little boxes. There's too much of a variety of people for that."

"What the fock iz wrong wiv you?" Kelly demanded, pointing between the two of them. "We need labels otherwise noone know wot da fock iz goin' on!" Kelly exhaled sharply and shook her head in frustration. "Iz dis why da two of you 'aven't got it together?"

A somber and almost regretful expression crossed Nathan's face as he looked over at Izzy. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed in remorse. "Maybe he's what's been missin' from my life," he said sadly, kicking at a stray, crumpled up beer can. "Why do think I was always so mean to him?"

"Coz you're a wanka," Kelly replied in a deadpan voice.

"No," he replied earnestly. "No, it's because it's much easier to humiliate, degrade, and just generally shit all over someone than it is to admit that you love them!"

Kelly glowered at the two of them for a moment before spinning on her heels and marching angrily towards the door to the roof. Izzy flinched a bit at the violence with which the door was slammed. She could swear it sent vibrations through the floor, like a miniature earthquake. She patted Nathan on the back comfortingly and gave him a waek smile. "I'm going to go talk to Kelly," she murmured. "I'll see if I can sort all of this out." When she glanced back at Nathan, though, he clearly hadn't registered a word she had said, instead just staring off into the distance pensively. Izzy let out a quiet snort and followed Kelly down the stairs.

"Kelly?"

There was no response, but after a few minutes of wandering the hallways Izzy figured she was probably smoking a cigarette somewhere. Pushing her way out the front door, Izzy found Kelly leaning against the wall next to it with one arm wrapped around her waist and the other holding a cigarette to her mouth. Upon seeing Izzy, the other girl took a long drag and blew the smoke right in Izzy's face. "Wot da fock wos all that about?" she demanded, gesturing up at the roof with her cigarette. "For the past coupla days I've 'ad to listen in on yous two mopin' about some fockin' kiss and all the sudden 'e's turned into a gay? An' you're fine wiv it?"

Izzy cringed slightly at the sudden revelation, and nervously pulled at the hair of her ponytail. "You knew about that, huh?"

Kelly rolled her eyes and nodded, taking another long drag from her cigarette. "I didn't say nofin' coz da two of you were so weird, but now….wot the fock iz op wiv Nathan? An' why the fock aren't you bothered by it?"

At that Izzy let out a laugh cleverly disguised as a hacking cough. At least she had hoped that it was disguised. From the way Kelly was eyeing her, the ruse hadn't gone over as well as she had hoped. "Fine!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "I'm not bothered because Nathan's not gay for Simon." Kelly blinked and raised a questioning eyebrow at her, making Izzy sigh heavily. "Look," she continued, "Simon called me yesterday with all of this it and I dropped by the community center. I saw—Nathan's got this tattoo on his shoulder—" she tapped on her back to indicate the position "—It's Simon's name inside a heart. I'm pretty sure Vince did it—it's another type of voodoo mind shit. A sort of revenge thing for his preexisting condition of being a twat and all that."

Kelly's jaw fell open again. "An' why are ya goin' along wiv it?"

Izzy shot her an incredibly sheepish and slightly ashamed look. "Because it's funny?" Kelly scoffed loudly and glared at her with such contempt, it made Izzy shift on her feet in shame. "Oh, come on, Kelly," she whined. "Where's your sense of humor? Just give me one more day, and we'll take him back to Vince and have him fixed up. Just one more day. This is just too good."

Kelly rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the wall, wandering away from Izzy. "There's somefin' wrong wiv you," she shouted over her shoulder.

Izzy fell backwards, letting her back collide with the wall behind her. "Trust me," she murmured to herself, "there's definitely more than one thing wrong with me."

Izzy slid down the wall till she was sitting on the ground below, extending her legs so that they were laying there limply in front of her. It was true. There was definitely something very wrong with her. Why did she always have to run from everything? Because that's what she was doing right now. She was running away from her problems. Having fun messing with this new, crazy, besotted Nathan was a way of removing herself from actually dealing with the things that she was feeling. As tough as she usually appeared to the outside observer, it was just fear. Fear of being hurt, of letting someone in. That's all that the armor she had was really, her refusing to be brave enough to open up. When all was said and done, she was a coward. But even in the face of all that cowardice, seeing Nathan like this was still really fucking funny.

Pulling her legs up to her chest, Izzy wrapped her arms around them and tucked her chin behind her knees as she stared across the water. The dull light of the sun glinted off those small waves, creating a sort of haze of light. Kelly, as always, served as a reality check. Before the stupid fucking emotional realization all those weeks ago, she had built herself this nice, safe little bubble, but that got blown straight to hell. After that, she had almost fixed it up again—made everything okay, or at least almost okay—and then the kiss changed that as well. And now she was trying to build up the safe space again, but this time it was doomed to failure, so why was she even bothering with it?

The internal monologuing and moping and brooding which may have easily gone on for at least another hour were quickly brushed aside at the sound of approaching light, quick footsteps. Izzy immediately clambered to her feet and brushed off her jumpsuit. Those were Alisha's footsteps. Kelly already knew about her stupid little dilemma—it would have been fucking humiliating to let Alisha in on it as well, because then she would tell Curtis and then they would all know and it would officially be a 'thing'. But when Alisha rounded the corner and made her way to the entrance, Izzy realized that she might as well have fallen to her knees, bawling her eyes out and started screaming 'why!' while shaking her fists at the heavens. Alisha wouldn't have noticed.

"What's wrong?" Izzy asked hesitantly. Alisha stopped suddenly, clearly surprised, and dropped the drink she was holding. Immediately she ducked down to pick it up, trying to hide the fact that she was wiping at her eyes.

"I'm fine," she said, still trying to keep her face from view. When Izzy finally got a good look at the other girl, it was obvious that she was not fine. Alisha wasn't used to hiding this kind of shit. Her eyes were red and her makeup was slightly smeared. If Alisha wasn't aware of that then there definitely was something more serious on her mind. But then there was something else as well. On her upper left temple there was a place where her foundation was caked on more heavily than on the rest of her face. It was a rookie mistake. If you want to hide a scab or a cut you have to dab on the cover-up, not smear it like you do over smooth skin. Otherwise it collects and can actually highlight what you're trying to hide.

"How did you get that?" Izzy asked, pointing at her head.

"It's nothing," Alisha said, trying to push past her.

Izzy didn't budge. She stood there blocking the door, making Alisha's eyes flash with anger. "That's not nothing," Izzy replied, folding her arms across her chest and glaring seriously at the other girl. "A bump like that could mean a concussion, you might have to go to the hospital. How did you get it?"

Alisha scoffed heavily and folded her arms, mimicking Izzy's posture. "I fell down the stairs," she spat back with venom in her voice. "Not that it's any of your fucking business."

"Jesus, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Alisha groaned, stamping a foot impatiently. "Now will you get the fuck out of my way? I've got to go fix up my makeup."

Izzy blinked at the ferocity of the response, and shifted slightly to the side. As soon as there was a small path clear, Alisha barreled forwards, knocking into Izzy as she shoved her way through the door. Izzy watched through the glass pane in the door as the other girl stamped off down the hallway and noticed as she brought her hand up to her face to wipe at her eyes again. Why were people so fucking confusing? And what the hell was going on? Izzy, breaking her eyes away from Alisha's retreating figure, decided to retrace her steps to see if she could find out exactly what happened. And those steps led her to something wholly unexpected. Simon.

He was sitting there in that especially stiff way he always sat in—back straight like a rod, legs pressed together primly like he was a fucking princess, and his elbows tucked into his side as he lifted that perfectly squared quarter of a sandwich to his mouth. It wouldn't surprise Izzy if he started sticking his pinking out while eating. Izzy wandered over and collapsed heavily into the seat opposite, her slumped posture contrasting completely with his. He nibbled the corner of his sandwich and looked at her, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Hey?" he said hesitantly, the greeting coming out as a question more than anything else.

"What's up with Alisha?" Izzy asked bluntly, folding her hands together on the table in front of her.

The crease in Simon's forehead grew deeper as his confusion grew. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she's acting weird," Izzy continued, grabbing one of the carrots that lay next to his sandwich and popping it into her mouth. "She's all emotional and just generally being…different. And she's being different around you. Usually I would say it's none of my fucking business, but I've just got this feeling like it's bigger than just her, you know? Like it's got to do with us as well. Or you at least. And I kind of feel like she needs help, but doesn't want to ask for it."

"I don't see what's it's got to do with me," Simon mumbled, staring down at his sandwich.

"Really?" Izzy asked, grabbing another carrot. "Because the way I see it, she just got all weepy and emotional after talking to you."

"I didn't mean to upset her," Simon mumbled self-consciously.

"I didn't say you did," Izzy returned. "I'm just wondering what set her off."

"She wanted to know if I thought about the future," he muttered quietly. "What I thought was going to happen to us. And then yesterday she was asking about the guy in the mask."

At that Izzy's eyes, which were previously occupied inspecting her nails, flicked up to look at Simon. Why would Alisha be asking about the guy in the mask? Every time she or Simon brought it up, she would just roll her eyes and wander off. Alisha didn't give a shit about the guy in the mask. She had said as much on several different occasions. There had to be a reason for the recent, radical shift of opinion, and that coupled with the sudden evasiveness and emotional behavior was painting a very suspicious picture. Izzy stood up without another word and wandered off, her mind occupied with the new mystery. It wasn't till about an hour later, when she and Nathan were off picking up litter in the car park that she realized she had forgotten to tell Simon about her recent discovery vis-à-vis the Nathan love.

As the day ended, the six of them, as usual, found themselves back in the locker room. Alisha seemed to throw her clothes on as quickly as possible and practically sprinted out of the community center. Izzy was left with the distinct impression that she was avoiding somebody. At first she thought it was her, what with the botched interrogation earlier and everything, but with the way Curtis rushed after her she wasn't so sure. Izzy stuck her head out into the hallway, watching them both go and unable to shake that intense feeling of suspicion. But when she turned back to face the others, something very different was forced into the forefront of her mind.

Nathan was standing directly behind Simon, who was facing his locker, with a letter in his hands, leaning in and smelling Simon's hair. Izzy was about to shout out to Simon, give him a bit of a warning, but before she could Simon glanced back over his shoulder and saw Nathan, then spinning around and pressing himself back against the lockers, trying to get as far away from Nathan as physically possible. It didn't work all that well, though, because Nathan just leaned in closer.

"Wh—what's this?" Simon stammered out, gesturing at the letter which Nathan seemed to have encased in a stereotypical red envelope.

"Read it," Nathan said in a seductive voice, pushing it into Simon's hand. "We'll take things slowly," he continued, placing a hand against the lockers near Simon's head and leaning in so that their faces were inches away, "and when you're ready to develop the physical side of our relationship you just let me know. No pressure."

Simon's jaw twitched a bit before he bit out a hesitant 'thanks'.

Nathan shut his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh, and then started caressing Simon's cheek. "It's just so hard when you're so cute and I'm so horny, and there's only a coupla thin layers of cotton separating our genitals." Then Nathan leaned in a little closer like he was hoping Simon would close the distance between them, waiting for a kiss. When it didn't come, he let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself back off the lockers, leaving the locker room with an expression of intense disappointment on his face.

Shell-shocked wasn't quite strong enough a term to describe the look on Simon's face when he turned to face Izzy and Kelly who had been there through the whole ordeal. Izzy shot him a smile. "It's better than him being mean, isn't it?"

He looked at her like she was completely insane. "No."

Kelly scoffed heavily and rolled her eyes. "Now doncha fink it's time to deal wiv this shit?

Simon blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Kelly raised her eyebrows and gave Izzy a poignant look that made Izzy wince guiltily. "I may or may not have figured out what's wrong with Nathan." Simon's jaw dropped in surprise and he stared at her with disbelief. "What?" she said defensively. "I wanted to see if I could get him to write you a sonnet."

"We need to fix this," he said, fixing her with an earnest stare.

Izzy held her hands up in submission. "I don't disagree, but we'll have to hold off till tomorrow. I'm strapped for cash and I seriously need this shift at the garage. I hear food is important for living and all that shit."

"Awright, then," Kelly growled. "Tomorrow, afta community service, we go sort this shit out."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

It had been a simple plan—mind-numbingly, bone-crunchingly simple. They would get the gang together, go over to Vince's tattoo parlor and together, as a group, they would _persuade_ Vince to make Nathan normal again. As funny as his whirlwind romance with Simon was to begin with, the constant moaning was beginning to wear thin. The basic precept of the plan was also incredibly straightforward: safety in numbers. But, as usual, one of them had to go and fuck it up. In this case, the transgressor was Kelly. For some unknown, ridiculous reason Kelly had decided to go by Vince's all on her own and got a shiny new tattoo for her trouble—one that matched Nathan's, only with Simon's name replaced by that of Vince himself. Ugh. The idea of being in love with Vince made Izzy throw up in her mouth a little bit.

"The tattoos are controlling you," Simon said earnestly, trying to reason with Nathan and Kelly as they smiled at their tattoos in the mirror. "That tattoo guy did them."

"Uh, Vince wouldn't do that," Kelly said, staring hostilely at Simon. " 'E luvs me."

"That's you're tattoo talking," Simon replied.

"Cute and clever!" Nathan crooned, reaching out for Simon only to find his hand immediately smacked away.

"And that's yours!"

Izzy sighed and scratched absently at her forehead from her position leaning against the lockers. "Look, the plan's still good, okay?" she said in a tired voice. "We go to the tattoo parlor and convince him to remove the tattoos. Worse come to worse, I'll threaten his car. The way to a guy like that is always through his car."

And then began what was probably the longest day of community service Izzy had ever been subjected to. Watching Nathan continually hit on and attempt to grope Simon was nowhere near as funny as getting him to write that haiku, and Kelly….hearing her go on and on about how fit Vince was seemed wrong on just so many levels. And then there was Alisha. Izzy had been stealing glances at that girl all day. She was so…pensive. There definitely had to be something going on with her—something big—because pensive was not a shade that Alisha would typically wear.

As the day came to a close, Izzy stopped by the vending machines before heading to the locker room to get changed. She stood there for a bit, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against the glass, trying to sort out all of the messed up shit flying around in her head while pretending to try and decide between the various types of crisps available. There was just so much going on right now, and she couldn't make sense of it all. It was like those files shady government entities have, where the papers are full of text but every once in a while there's a sentence or two that have been blacked out by some guy's marker. She had most of the facts in, but she was missing that tiny piece of the puzzle that would make it all make sense. But without those missing bits of information, it was just a load of gibberish. And Izzy hated gibberish. Eventually she decided on a pack of pretzels, shoved a few coins into the machine, and punched in the appropriate code. There was that slight whirring noise as her snack was released, but before it dropped to the bottom, another louder, much more aggressive sound exploded throughout the halls of the community center.

"Maybe you're right!" Alisha was shouting at the top of her voice. "Maybe I deserve all this! But I need you to make me feel like I don't!"

Grabbing the pretzels, Izzy moved towards the source of the noise. She rounded the corner to see Curtis rolling his eyes in frustration as Alisha stormed off. "Alisha!" he said plaintively. "I didn't mean that! Alisha!"

Alisha spun around to face him, a bitter laugh burbling out of her mouth. "Don't even think about using your power to fix this. I want to know what a prick you can be."

Curtis grimaced and slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. Eventually his eyes fell on Izzy who, at a loss for words, gave a sheepish smile and waved a little. "What the fuck do you want?" he spat angrily.

"Trouble in paradise?" she asked, making a face that was supposed to be sympathetic, but probably ended up looking patronizing. Ignoring the angry glare he was shooting at her, she took a few steps towards him. "What's happened with you two?"

He let out a derisive snort and leaned against the wall, rubbing at his now-bruised knuckles. "Fuck if I know. All the sudden she's just in this mood, like she can't be bothered with me any more. What the fuck's that about?"

"You're actually expecting me to have some sort of reasonable explanation for Alisha's behavior?"

Curtis groaned and scratched the back of his neck absently. "It's like she doesn't want to be with me, just out of the blue. Like she's pullin' away or something."

Izzy shoved her hands in her pockets and moved so that she was standing in front of Curtis. "Are you sure it's just her?"

At that Curtis's eyes snapped up from the floor so that they met hers. "What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"Nothing," Izzy said, shrugging her shoulders. "It's just that when we broke into that girl's flat, I'm pretty sure I heard you whisper 'It's you' all dramatic-like. She didn't seem to have a single fucking clue who you were, but you were staring at her like she was a ghost come to haunt you. Care to comment?" Curtis didn't say a word and stared back at his feet again. "Look," Izzy continued, "I'm not going to say anything, and I'm not saying that Alisha's not acting off, because she is, but maybe she's not the only problem here." And with that she patted him on the shoulder and wandered off down the hallway to the locker rooms, nibbling on a few pretzels.

Quickly changing into her street clothes, Izzy moved out to the patio to wait for the others before they went off to Vince's tattoo parlor. But as she sat there, she saw something that peaked her curiosity. Alisha was walking away from the community center—which itself wasn't particularly special—but she was walking in the direction opposite to her flat. That, in combination with her hurried pace and those suspicious glances she was shooting in everywhere, made Izzy think that she was up to something. And whatever it was, Izzy wanted to know about it because it more than likely affected her and the rest of the ASBO shitheads as well. She hopped up from her seat on top of the picnic table, pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, and began trailing after the other girl. Vince could wait.

Reconnaissance. That was what Izzy decided to call whatever the fuck it was that she was doing right now, because 'stalking' is such an ugly word isn't it? She kept a reasonable distance, almost losing her a few times, as Alisha kept walking. As far as Izzy could tell, Alisha was leading her to the middle of nowhere. There were no shops in this direction, or pubs, or clubs, or any other places a girl like Alisha could possibly want to go. Max had once told her that erratic behavior and traveling to unknown places was an after-effect of alien abduction—which was ridiculous of course but the farther the walked the more difficulty Izzy was having in assigning a reasonable explanation to what it was Alisha was doing.

Eventually Alisha led her into a dusty old warehouse. Izzy slowly picked her way after the girl, dodging and weaving behind columns to stay out of sight. Alisha finally came to a stop in front of a set of rust-colored metal doors. She paused for a moment in what seemed like hesitation before pulling them open and stepping through. Izzy waited a few moments before following her, but once she pulled the doors open, she realized there was nowhere to go. She was staring down an empty elevator shaft. Fuck.

Izzy leaned against the column outside the doors and waited. She wasn't sure what she was waiting for, but there had to be some sort of answer here to satisfy her curiosity. Otherwise, what was the fucking point? Apparently she didn't have to wait long, because after a few minutes there was the telltale grinding noise of an elevator moving, so she dodged behind the column and waited a bit longer. There was a tingling feeling of anticipation flaring in her limbs, but any level of anticipation could not have prepared her for what walked out of that set of double doors.

It was the guy in the mask. The guy in the mask strolled casually out of the elevator in all his spandexed and velcroed glory. Izzy pressed herself as close to the concrete pillar as she could, willing herself to be invisible. Alisha and the guy in the mask? No wonder she was suddenly so interested in him. Izzy was bouncing with excitement, but even in that excitement another dilemma was presented to her. What was she supposed to do next?

Apparently thinking about what to do next really didn't matter, because her body, seemingly on its own, hurled itself towards the mysterious figure, knocking into it and sending it crashing into the wall next to it. It took all of a second for whoever it was to make it to their feet and another two for Izzy to find herself being pinned to the wall, a strong forearm pressing into her chest and keeping her in place. Izzy felt that now-familiar sensation of pressure pushing out from under her skin, and smirked a bit, waiting for it to blow the prick twenty feet away from her. And then she kept waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Nothing. What the fuck was the use of this power if it never fucking worked?

After pinning her to the wall, the guy in the mask didn't make another move. He didn't hit her, he didn't shove her away—he just stood there, holding her in place. Izzy decided it was up to her to make the next move, so she went to her default move of self-preservation and kneed him in the groin.

There was a small groan of pain as the figure stumbled backwards away from her. He doubled over in pain, instinctively covering his manbits like blokes always do when they get kicked in the balls. Apparently it was reflex to protect the baby-making accessories. Izzy took that opportunity to step forward and rip the mask away from the guy's face. When she saw what was under it, Izzy felt like she had been kicked in the balls as well.

"Simon?"

The doubled-over figure glanced up at her and an eerily and unfamiliarly confident smile played on Simon's lips.

"I was wondering if I was going to get to talk to you again."

**There you go! I wanted for Izzy to meet future!Simon and I figured this would be the best way to go about it. Izzy isn't really one to let things go, and if Alisha was hiding something pertinent to the group, I don't think she would have let it slide, hence the following.**

**Not much Nathan in this chapter, but I'll make up for it with the next one, I promise!**

**Anyways, I hope that you like it. I only got four review for the last chapter, so if there was anything you didn't like about that one or any suggestions you'd like to make let me know and I'll do my best to incorporate it.**

**Please review!**


	31. Big Reveal

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Phaex, Adela, ProbationTwerker, LittleGee, XxPookerxX, Becca, and Guest for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

Chapter 31 – Big Reveal

Simon. Mild-mannered, shifty, shy, insecure Simon was smirking up at her, still clutching his balls from where she had kicked him. What the actual fuck?

"I guess I know firsthand why that's your go-to move now," he said, slowly straightening up to full height. "It is pretty debilitating."

"What the fuck is this?" she demanded, slapping him upside the head. "What's with this 'Dark Knight' shit you've got going on here? You're jumping off buildings and doing back flips and poking people in the eye with paper airplanes? Since when did you join the cast of the Avengers?"

Simon smiled at her outburst and took a step forward, holding her by the shoulders like he was trying to calm her down. "It's alright, Izzy," he said in a voice that made Izzy feel like she was a small child being talked out of a bad dream by her parent. "There's a lot that you don't understand. There's a lot that you don't know."

Izzy, that hostile, angry energy still shooting out of her eyes in sparks, studied the face of the person standing in front of her. It was actually Simon and not another freaky, sadistic shape-shifter, that much was clear. But it was also clear that this was not the Simon she had unceremoniously bailed on at the community center not twenty minutes ago. There was a different energy to him. He was more loose and freer in his movements, not in that twitchy, jerky way she had become accustomed to. There was a crease in his forehead that wasn't there before, like a few years of worry and grief had been superimposed on her Simon's still somewhat naïve face. And then there was the way he was looking at her—like someone who was seeing an old friend again for the first time in a long, long time.

Shrugging Simon's hands off her shoulders, Izzy lifted her arms and shoved him, making him stumble back a few meters. "Don't give me any of that cryptic bullshit!" she shouted, advancing on him and poking him hard in the chest. Which admittedly didn't have the effect she was going for since it was encased in hard plastic. "A doppelganger of nice, shy little Simon has been running around playing superhero, saving us, breaking into my flat and sending these bullshit little notes, and now what? You've got Alisha locked in the bat cave in some sort of weird Lois Lane fantasy scenario? What I need isn't a bunch of bullshit platitudes about how there's sooooo much that I don't understand. What I need is a fucking explanation."

Simon folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "You're right, you deserve an explanation," he said in a low, reasonable tone. "The truth is that I'm—"

"From the future," they both said in unison. Simon blinked and raised his eyebrows at her, making her cross her arms across her chest, mimicking his position, and glower back. "What? You think I can't make the intuitive leap? There's another you who's obviously older and more worldly and shit, and it doesn't differ all that much from my 'the guy in the mask sees the future' theory. I mean, how else would you know about all the shit that's gone down? And it explains why you're all invested in us. What I want to know is _why_ you came back. It must have been pretty fucking big."

That strangely confident and slightly nostalgic smirk crossed his face again. It kind of made Izzy want to hit him again. She didn't do cryptic—it was always such a massive tease. He stepped forwards and put a hand on her shoulder again, which still felt strange to Izzy given that the Simon she was familiar with was terrified by human contact. "I can't talk now," he said in that low, mysterious voice he seemed to have perfected. "There's somewhere I need to be."

Izzy let out a loud, derisive snort. "What, do you have a fucking dental appointment or something? I'm not sure they'll let you in dressed as a Power Ranger."

New Simon let out a light laugh and shook his head. "I'll explain what I can to you later. I'll contact you when I can."

"When you can?" Izzy shot back in a sarcastic tone. "When will I know when it's time for me to be inducted into this creepy little club of yours? Bat signal?"

"I'll let you know," he said, suddenly fixing her with a serious stare. "Izzy you can't tell anyone about this. Not the other me, not Nathan, not even Alisha."

"Why not Alisha?" Izzy replied suspiciously. "She already knows."

"I'll tell you everything you need to know. Just wait until then. In the meantime I have something I've got to do, and so do you." All of the sudden, as if on cue, Izzy's phone went off, blasting the Doctor Who theme song again, making Simon smile widely. "I think that's me."

"This is so not anywhere near over," Izzy grumbled, leaning down and searching around in her bag for her phone. "And when you do get around to this Mr. Miagi shit, how's about giving me a ring instead of breaking into my flat?" Her fingers found their way around her phone and she straightened up, only to find that she was standing there alone, talking to herself. Izzy felt her eyes fall shut in frustration and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Son of a bitch." And then, as if the universe was making a conscious effort to add insult to injury, a strong gust of wind picked up, blowing a discarded newspaper past her, like it was trying to emphasize how alone she was.

Izzy looked down at the phone in her hand, which had moved into the second playing of the, quickly pressed the 'send' button, and brought it up to her ear. "I can guarantee that I've got more going on than you at the moment," she sighed into the phone, her voice thick with exasperation.

There was a short pause on the other side of the phone. "What?" Simon's heavily confused voice crackled from the other end. "What are you talking about?"

Izzy let out a sharp breath and shook her head absently, forgetting that there was nobody there to see it. "Nothing," she mumbled absently. "Just ignore me. What's up?"

"Where are you?" he hissed into the phone.

That's when she heard Nathan's voice somewhere in the background. "Come on, Simon!" Nathan whined. "We don't need her. It can just be you and me and the open road. We can watch the sunset together! That's some romantic shit! Like in 'The Notebook'!"

"Let go of me," Simon mumbled through the sound of a mild struggle. "We need to get Nathan and Kelly back to the tattoo parlor and get them fixed….now."

Shit. There was just too much crap going on right now. Way, way too much crap. Izzy slammed her fist into her forehead. How could she be so fucking stupid? "Right," she muttered into the phone. "Right. I had to get something from my flat before we….I'm sorry I didn't tell you first, but I was in a hurry. Look, I—I'll just meet you guys there, okay?"

"Right," Simon said in an uncertain voice. "I've just got to wait for Curtis and I'll see you there…soon, I guess."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Izzy was waiting outside of that tattoo parlor much longer than she thought she would have to, but it still wasn't enough time for her to sort out all of the things whirling around in her brain. It wasn't that she couldn't believe what was going on, because she did. After a few weeks of psychotic wackjobs trying to kill you and virginize you and walking around wearing your face and fucking up your relationships with people, the suspension of disbelief starts coming pretty easily. But this, though? This was jus on another level.

It was Simon—little brother, socially awkward, scared bunny Simon—but he was all grown up. He was confident, he had swagger, and if Izzy was being honest, he was kind of hot. Objectively speaking, of course. Even with all that swagger and that mystery man persona, she still kind of wanted to pinch his cheek. But it was all so fucking weird, especially when she saw the present Simon shuffling down the street, trying his hardest to keep at least some distance between him and a very clingy Nathan. Unsuccessfully. The differences between them were so stark, but they were still the same person. The other one had just been…unshackled or something. Jesus, this whole secret thing was going to be hard.

"What took so long?" she shouted as Simon, Nathan, Kelly, and Curtis slowly ambled towards her. "You guys look like you've been through some kind of war zone or something."

It was true. Simon was looking seriously traumatized and cringing every time anybody got within a few feet of him. Nathan looked like a kicked puppy that belonged in one of those commercials with sad music that try to convince you to adopt pets. Curtis just looked pissed off with life in general, moping and glaring at everything. And then Kelly…well Kelly didn't look any different than she always did—she always looked like she was ready to punch someone in the face.

Simon sighed heavily and smoothed his hair down against his forehead. It was kind of a surreal thing to look at now. "The guy in the mask showed up at the community center," he mumbled self-consciously.

Izzy had to consciously fight the urge to roll her eyes. She cleared her throat a bit and shifted on her feet. "What did he want this time?" she asked curiously. "Did he toss another paper airplane at you? Maybe a little bit of arts and crafts?"

Simon made a face at her and reached into his jacket pocket. "He gave us this," he said, putting a bag of peanuts in her hand. Izzy looked back and forth between the bag of peanuts and Simon a few times. "Dry roasted?" she said through a scoff, handing them back to him. "What, does he want to make sure our blood sugar levels don't drop too low or something?"

Simon just shrugged in response. More fucking mysteries. Izzy suddenly found herself overcome with the desire to flick Simon in the ear. She had to remind herself that it wasn't actually him she was frustrated with.

"Let's just get this shit over with!" Curtis growled angrily. "I need to find Alisha—sort things out."

"Good luck with that," she murmured under her breath. She scratched at her forehead and shook her head, trying to get her thoughts back in order and ignore the moon-faced looks Nathan kept making at Simon. "Alright," she sighed, pushing herself off the wall and moving to the door. "Let's do this thing."

The rest of the group fell in line behind her as she grabbed the door handle, slowly pushing it open and studiously ignoring Kelly's stream of inquiries as to the state of her hair. When they all piled into the parlor, they found it empty. The blue fluorescent lights were giving it that same eerie glow as they did before, but in this context it made Izzy feel like she was gearing up for some sort of epic battle. For some reason 'Eye of the Tiger' popped into her head. Simon closed the door, giving rise to a fairly loud clanking noise, and then Vince suddenly appeared from the shadows like some mediocre supervillain.

"Aw, there he is," Nathan spat dramatically. "Mr. Dick. Because of the tattoo? On your cock?"

"Yeah, we get it sweetie," Izzy mumbled, giving him a patronizing pat on the back.

Vince walked towards the lot of them slowly, a confused and slightly dangerous expression crossing his face. "What is this?" he asked in a low, gravely voice.

"We know about the tattoos," Simon said boldly. Izzy shot him a curious look. Maybe there was more of the superhoodie in him now than she was aware of.

"I told 'em ya didn't do it!" Kelly said earnestly, glaring at each of them with more ferocity than usual

"Just get rid of the bullshit tattoos, yeah?" Curtis spat impatiently.

Vince started laughing a bit, showing his big, menacing teeth that glinted threateningly in the blue light. "Or what?" he said, chuckling.

"Or get ready to feel the pain!" Nathan shouted.

"Calm down, Nathan," Izzy said in a tired voice. "Get rid of them or I will seriously fuck up your car." Then Vince glared at her in a way that actually made her fear for her life.

"Your no' goin' ta hurt 'im," Kelly said, wandering over to Vince and wrapping her arms around him.

"You're on our side!" Nathan hissed at her, waving his hand frantically, trying to get her to come back.

Kelly ignored him and started looking Vince up and down with an expression of arousal on her face. "Aw, 'e's so fit," she said, gripping one of his biceps. Cue gagging.

"Lose the tattoos!" Curtis shouted, taking a few threatening steps forward. Vince just gave a threatening smile and pointed the tattoo needle at Curtis. There was a strange sort of shimmering in the air, like the kind you see above asphalt on an especially hot summer's day, and all of the sudden Curtis stumbled backwards, clutching his gut. Izzy dodged behind Curtis, catching him under the arms before he hit the ground and stared back at Vince like she was trying to set him on fire with her mind. Which she actually was.

"What did you do to him?" she screamed angrily. Vince's smug smile just grew until it covered his entire face, like he was some ugly, tattooed version of the Cheshire cat. Curtis started gasping and coughing, and that's when Izzy noticed the little bit of blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. "What the fuck did you do!" she screeched hysterically.

Curtis's hands made their way to the hem of his shirt and he pulled it up slightly, revealing the inked image of a knife plunging into his gut. Only it wasn't ink that was spilling out. "He stabbed me!" he shouted in disbelief. Completely losing his footing, Curtis started tumbling backwards, sending Izzy crashing down with him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Nathan chanted anxiously, coming up behind Izzy and helping her brace Curtis. The two of them looked at each other, their eyes brimming in panic, before turning back to Vince who was just standing there with a serial killer smile. He pointed his tattoo needle at Kelly this time. "She stays," he said, jabbing the needle in Kelly's direction. "You go."

"Don't just stand there," Curtis managed to force out, his teeth gritted in pain.

"Right, right, right," Nathan said, laying Curtis gently on the floor and getting back to his feet. "So what do we do?"

Izzy, who was still crouching next to a contorted Curtis looked between Nathan and Simon with wide eyes and shook her head. She had absolutely no idea what to do. It seemed like Simon didn't either. He was pressing the heel of his palm against his head like he always did when he panicked and was glancing around the parlor frantically to find something—anything—to help them. It probably didn't help anybody's concentration that Kelly was busy rubbing up on Vince like a cat in heat and moaning periodically. After a few moments, though, Simon's head stopped snapping around like a hyperactive meercat and he stared very, very intently at one point on the wall. Izzy followed his gaze until her eyes fell on a spray painted sign that read 'Nut Allergy'. She wasn't sure whether to sigh in relief or laugh at the hilarity of the situation. Actually, given the fact that Curtis was bleeding out in her arms right now, relief was probably the more socially acceptable option. Either way, this was going to be the most ridiculous standoff of all time.

Simon glared dramatically at Vince and reached into his breast pocket, whipping out the bag of peanuts his future self had apparently seen fit to drop off. The situation was idiotic enough to begin with, but the expression of fear that flitted across Vince's face made it downright laughable.

"Remove the tattoos," Simon said, holding the small plastic bag out like it was a magic shield, "or I open the nuts!"

"He stabbed me and you're offerin' him peanuts?" Curtis asked incredulously from his position curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Nuts are his kryptonite," Simon said quickly, eliciting a confused expression from Nathan. "Like in Superman," he elaborated.

"Yeah," Izzy said, regaining some of her confidence. "Max told me about your peanut allergy, Vince. Something about you having to go to the hospital because you accidentally swallowed one nut in a bag of trail mix." Vince swung the needle away from Kelly for a moment and pointed it at Izzy, sending a searing pain into her gut. Red liquid started blotting through her blue tank top. She peeled away the fabric to see a knife identical to the one on Curtis, lodging itself in her gut. "What the fuck, Vince?" she shouted, the pain radiating out from the wound as she tried to talk. "This was my favorite top!"

Vince ignored her and turned back to Simon. "Listen," he said, suddenly sounding more anxious. "I think we can work something out. _Don't _open those nuts."

"You want some?" Simon replied in what was probably his equivalent of a threatening tone. "Dry-roasted."

"Aw, so butch!" Nathan interjected, leering at Simon.

"LISTEN!" Vince screamed, his voice echoing against the walls. "Drop the nuts—" he pointed the needle back at Kelly "—or I take out her eye!"

"He's so sexy," Kelly crooned, smiling at the raving lunatic next to her.

Izzy let out a hacking cough, sending a mist of blood spattering on the floor. "Just get rid of the fucking tattoos, Vince. You're not smart enough to explain why two corpses showed up in your shop."

"Let her go!" Simon shouted again.

"PUT. YOUR NUTS. ON THE FLOOR."

Izzy couldn't restrain the wheezing laugh that burbled out of her throat at the wording of that statement, no matter how much it hurt. Her tendency to start laughing at inopportune times was seriously biting her in the arse. Vince and Simon kept shouting at each other and Nathan's voice made an appearance as well, but her powers of perception were being clouded by a haze of pain. The blood loss wasn't helping her concentration either. After all this she would need a cookie to keep her blood sugar up, that was for sure. Then Simon let out some sort of gladiator scream and ripped the package open, sending nuts flying everywhere except where they needed go. "Good one," Izzy mumbled bitterly.

Then Vince rounded on Simon, pointing at him with the tattoo needle and causing a barbed wire to encircle his neck. Simon fell to his knees, choking, and the ever faithful and lovestruck Nathan rushed to his side. "Simon!" he shouted, wrapping his arms around Simon's shoulders. "Please don't kill him! My beautiful boy!"

Somehow Simon managed to find the strength necessary to wrench himself from Nathan's tight grip and hurled himself forward, only to collapse on the ground, clutching at his neck and trying to grab hold of the ropes that weren't really there. The rest of it was kind of a blur. Simon managed to grab hold of one of the peanuts, hurling it into Vince's open mouth. Izzy could hear gasping noises coming from both Simon and Vince as the latter's throat started to close. Then there were the dull noises of a scuffle as they fought for the epipen. Izzy wasn't wholly aware of what was happening. Spots were starting to appear in her eyes and a blackness was edging in at the outskirts of her plane of vision. She was about to pass out.

And then everything stopped. The pain, the wooziness, the need to vomit—everything. Izzy closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. When she opened them again, a curly-haired idiot was crouching over her, staring down at her with an uncharacteristic degree of concern in his eyes. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Izzy let out one last cough and pushed herself up on her elbows. "Yeah," she said in a slightly unsteady voice. "Yeah, I think so." Nathan looped a hand under her arm and helped her up to her feet. Izzy let out a long, slow breath. "Well getting stabbed is fucking traumatizing. Remind me not to go and do that again."

"I everyone alright?" Simon asked, scrambling back up to his feet is well. "Is everyone…back to normal?"

"I'm fucking fantastic," Curtis growled angrily. "Except for the bit where I got stabbed."

" 'Ey don' go whinin' ta me," Kelly shouted, jabbing a finger at Curtis. "I had ta fuckin' kiss that dickhead!" She walked over to Simon and patted him on the shoulder gratefully. "Thanks mate. Ya fuckin' saved os, mate."

Though Izzy should probably taken account of that warm 'thank you' and offered up one of her own right then and there, that wasn't the part of Kelly's declaration that made Izzy freeze in place. She glanced anxiously between her and Nathan. "You mean you guys remember all of it this time? All the shit you did through the mental whammy?"

Kelly let out an angry scoff and kicked Vince's limp body a second time for good measure. "Damn right I did," she growled. "Fuckin' prick."

Izzy bit her lip as a sudden wave of guilt and anxiety washed through her body. "Oh, shit."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

A few hours later, Izzy was heading back to the community center. After the whole showdown at the tattoo parlor, she had made sure that everyone was okay, said a quick thank you to Simon, and had run away as quickly as possible. Her cowardly arse wasn't quite ready to deal with the giant parade of discomfort, awkward silences, and facepalming that a conversation with newly lucid Nathan would involve. So she avoided it. That's what she was good at, right? Avoiding things? But then she had gotten back to her empty flat, and was knocked on her cowardly arse by a sudden revelation: she didn't want to be that person anymore. That person was a lonely train wreck of a girl, and avoiding the inevitable facepalming and squirming discomfort wasn't going to make her any happier than she was now. She and Nathan may not be able to 'get it togetha' as Kelly so eloquently put it, but they could at least be friends—she wanted them to be friends—and to get back to whatever the hell that they were, she would have to start with an apology.

Izzy approached the usual unlocked window with her arms filled with edible peace offerings, and managed to scramble her way through in that characteristically uncoordinated way of hers. It seemed to her that the community center was especially quiet this time around, but that was probably because the plaintive wailing of 'All By Myself' was conspicuously absent. Nathan was there, though. She could see the light flashing from the balcony, probably from the telly he kept up there. She slowly climbed the steps to find him wholly engrossed in a game of football—so much so that he didn't notice she was there.

"Who's winning?" she asked loudly, making him let out a yelp of surprise. He spun around quickly, and when he saw her a look of confusion crossed his face. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he demanded in a slightly accusatory tone. Izzy silently held out the pizza and beer she had brought with her. Nathan eyed the offerings suspiciously, like he was wondering whether or not they were poisoned or something. But as it usually is with blokes, hunger and the insatiable need for alcohol overcame any scruples he might have had. "What's this for?" he asked, grabbing a beer and popping the lid before taking a long sip.

Izzy sighed and tossed the pizza and the rest of the beer on the 'bed' before plopping down herself. "It's apology pizza," she said simply. "It was brought to my attention that I was being a raving bitch with the whole you and Simon thing, egging you on and everything. The way I figure it, food fixes pretty much everything so…." She let the statement trail off and she pulled her knees up to her chin, curling up into a tiny ball. It was like she was trying to fend off some attack that was about to come, like she was a hedgehog or something. "Anyways, I'm sorry. In my defense I didn't think that you would remember any of it. Nobody did after the other mental whammies—you and that baby and then the virtue bitch shit. I don't know who makes the rules, but they sure as hell don't get any points for consistency."

Nathan gave her a curious look, which she returned with an earnest one of her own, trying to communicate how sorry she actually was. Then the strangest thing happened. Nathan let a casual snort and waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, don't worry about," he said. "It was a learnin' experience really. Now I know what a haiku is, an' that's _got_ to come in useful someday, hasn't it." Izzy shot him a weak smile, which he returned before blowing out a long, cathartic breath. "Well, I've got to say, that whole thing was an unexpected turn events."

Izzy laughed and shook her head, releasing her knees and letting her legs in front of her. "What? You mean you being gay?"

"I'm not gay!" he said emphatically. "Just look at me." And then he proceeded to flex some nonexistent muscles.

Izzy snorted and reached for a piece of pizza. "Are you sure about that?" she said, taking an inelegantly large bite. "You and Simon make a pretty cute couple. I'd ship it."

Nathan let out an affronted scoff and placed a hand over his heart, giving her a wounded look. "That hurts, Ginger! I'm far too beautiful to end up stuck with that short little bastard."

Izzy smirked and looked him up and down in consideration. "Nah! The two of you are endgame. You'll adopt a beautiful African baby and go to wine tastings and shit. I see a future there."

Nathan narrowed his eyes at her and pursed his lips slightly, putting on his 'thinking face'. "I'm about 98% certain that's not going to happen." He looked at her and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Would you like me to prove it to you?"

And then that giant wet blanket of awkward dropped from the heavens and smothered any bit of their usual light-hearted banter. Izzy's hands clenched at the Superman sheets under her as soon as it was said, and Nathan seemed to pick up on the change in the atmosphere as well, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head like he was in the middle of mentally berating himself. Izzy sighed heavily and shifted so that she was sitting along the edge of the balcony, leaning her forehead against the railing and letting her feet dangle over the side. Every fiber of her being was telling her to give some lame excuse and bolt as soon as possible. But it was time to grow up. If she ever wanted to be happy, she had to grow up.

"We should probably talk," she said hesitantly. "About….the thing that happened. I know it's not exactly in character for either of us to deal with this sort of shit, but we're not going to be able to avoid each other for at least another month, and all the tension is fucking killing me."

Nathan didn't say anything in response, but there was a slight rustling noise somewhere behind her and soon enough he was sitting right next to her. They weren't touching, but they weren't far from it either. After a few moments, Izzy twisted her head to get a look at Nathan's profile. His jaw was clenched unusually tight and it looked like he was gnawing on the inside of his cheek. Feeling her eyes on him, he shot her a glance, but looked away just as quickly before clearing his throat awkwardly.

"So how's that blonde prick," he said suddenly, interrupting the creepily still silence they had going on.

It was like someone had slapped Izzy across the face. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Nathan shot her another quick look before staring intently in front of him again. "The twat from the party last week I was just wonderin' how—"

"I have no fucking idea how Ian's doing because the two of us don't exactly talk. Like, ever."

That time when Nathan turned to face her, he didn't immediately turn away like he was afraid he would turn to stone or some shit like that. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Izzy replied strongly, looking at him like he was slightly insane. "I don't know where the fuck you'd get an idea like that."

An oddly serious look crossed Nathan's face and he leaned his head against the railing, studying her face. Izzy shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, like he was a sadistic kid with a giant magnifying glass and she was the ant he was trying to set fire to. "When we were writin' that letter to Simon together, you sayin' some shit about needin' to express your emotions and all that shit—that kissin' someone wasn't…" He let the statement trail off and finally broke eye contact with her. He swore heavily and scratched absently at his forehead. "I'm no good at this serious girl stuff and feelings and shit," he said, waving his hand around a bit. "I fancy you."

Izzy let out a splutter cough and looked at him with wide, slightly fearful eyes. "I fancy you." It had come out sounding more like a curse than anything else, but he had still said it. And he was still Nathan. She was absolutely gobsmacked—at a loss for words. After all these weeks of buildup, it really shouldn't have been much of a surprise, but if there was one thing Izzy was good at it was being an idiot when it came to that sort of thing. Nathan began to grow fidgety at her lack of response and let out a derisive scoff. "Don't go makin' a big deal of it or anything. There's a whole fucking sea of other fit birds who probably put out just waitin' for a piece of this an—"

"How much?" Izzy asked, a smile beginning to form at the corners of her mouth.

Nathan shot her a confused look. "What?"

"How much do you fancy me?" Izzy asked, her smile continuing to grow. "Like on a scale of one to ten, one being you think I've got a nice arse and ten being the light leaves your life whenever I'm not there."

Nathan glowered at her, genuinely pissed off. "I don't have to sit here and take this kind of sh—"

But before he could finish the sentence, Izzy grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and yanked him towards her, pressing her lips hard against his. It was a short kiss—perfunctory even—but is did the trick. Nathan didn't really have the chance to respond to it, but when Izzy pulled back he had a dazed expression on his face. His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly puckered, searching for hers again. It almost looked like he was concussed. Good. It was good that her kissing him had that sort of effect. Eventually his eyes did open, and a silly smile slowly spread across his face. "Well that was another unexpected development," he mumbled. "Not that I'm complainin'."

Izzy smiled and gave him another short kiss before getting to her feet and holding out a hand to help him up. "Come on."

"Where are we goin'?" he asked, that hazy look in his eyes fading a bit.

Izzy looked down at him with a wide, self-satisfied smirk. "When we have earth-shatteringly, mind-bogglingly amazing sex, it's not going to be in the community center on a pile of your dirty laundry." Nathan's eyes widened in an expression that seemed to be equal parts surprise, terror and lust, making Izzy's smirk widen even further. "What?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest. "I told you I wouldn't bother with any fucking euphemisms."

**Boom! There it is. The big reveal (note appropriate chapter titling).**

**I hope I kept everyone in character and that the progression was good. With the Nathan/Izzy scene I really wanted it to start out a bit awkward, become natural, go back to seriously awkward and a bit serious, and then to awesome. I really loved writing this chapter, but I did it all in one sitting and I'm posting it as soon as I finished, so please forgive any mistakes.**

**Guest: I'm glad you like her meeting future!Simon. They will have a couple of more scenes together in the next few chapters.**

**Becca: Wizard! You totally guessed where I was going with the whole letter-writing thing.**

**Phaex: As always, you are so awesome. You have no idea how much I love reading your reviews. Sometimes I feel like you are thinking more about the implications my writing has for the characters than I do! I'm so glad that you see Izzy's realizations and struggles with everything. I was hoping she wouldn't seem too unlikable what with the reveling in the Nathan/Simon thing, but like I said she's not perfect, and the fact that you appreciate her evolution and growth means so much to me. And the fact that you're constantly ushering me through my stupid insecurities when it comes to writing and reviews and such. Thank you.**

**XxPookerxX: Thank you so much for favoriting the story. I'm so glad you like it and I hope I'm updating quickly enough for you ;-P**

**LittleGee: I'm glad you like the Superhoodie reveal. I has a lot of fun with it, especially Simon's 'so that's what it feels like when you knee people in the balls' moment. I wanted to imply that there was a shared history with them that Izzy wasn't aware of yet. I hope you like the continuation of the Superhoodie reveal.**

**Adela: As usual, I am in awe of your reviews. A while back you said the you were an interactive reader, and I love that about you! The fact that you think this much about what I write is intensely flattering and I can't thank you enough for your continued support through this story. I'm really glad you liked the Izzy 'self-revelation' moment and I was trying to develop on that in this chapter as well….hopefully with satisfying results! And I definitely think you could write a good story. If you ever do, please let me know, because I would be more than happy to read it.**

**ProbationTwerker: Thanks so much for reading my story, and for favoriting it. And thank you so much for your comment about Izzy not being a Mary Sue. When I write OC stories, they're always a bit about wish fulfillment—because, let's face it, Robert Sheeran is gorgeous—but I also like to create fundamentally flawed and damaged characters because I feel like there's a lot more tension and room for development there. Like I said at the very beginning, I'm a UST writer so the romance was always going to go slowly. How do you like the pace now ;-P**

**Anyways, hugely long authors note, but every once and a while I want to respond to all of you guys. I hope you liked the chapter and that it was funny and substantive and romantic and dramatic and all that good stuff.**

**Please review!**


	32. Post-Traumatic Stress

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Adela, witchbaby300, LittleGee, Phaex, XxPookerxX, ChaygraceDaya, Lady Shagging Godiva, Sunflowers in Moscow, and BakerTennant'sTardis for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

Chapter 32 – Post-Traumatic Stress

Waking up the following morning was kind of like playing that game in those kid's magazines they keep in the waiting rooms of doctor's offices—the one where they show you two pictures and ask you to point out the differences between them. How did the picture her bleary, sleep-filled eyes were observing today differ from the one she had awoken to the previous morning? The crappy old card table was lying on the ground in a broken heap, there were clothes strewn all across the floor of the flat, and somehow her bra had managed to entangle itself in the fan blades above her head. Then there was the most obvious difference, and the most difficult one to think about—the arm that was so casually draped across her bare stomach. An arm that happened to belong to one Nathan Young. Izzy's eyes traveled down the length of that arm until they fell on its owner. Nathan was lying on her mattress, nuzzled up against her, with his face pressed into the pillow with his mouth open, drooling slightly. Careful not to disturb him, Izzy shifted slightly, rolling over to face him, and smiled.

Last night had been…spirited. Like everything else involving Nathan it had chaotic, uncoordinated, and slightly destructive. They had practically stumbled their way up those six flights of stairs, missing steps and almost toppling over sometimes. It's not like their full attention was on their feet. That trip had been full of frantic, slightly sloppy kisses and caresses. Izzy was actually surprised that neither of them suffered some kind of bodily injury from falling down the stairs or something. When they had finally gotten to her floor, they almost sprinted to her flat. Izzy had grappled with her bag, trying desperately to find her keys and when she finally had a hold on them she didn't even have the chance to unlock the door before Nathan spun her around, pinning her against the solid surface and trailing desperate nipping kisses down her neck like he was actively trying to give her a hickey. Which now upon reaching up and feeling the skin of her neck, she realized he had. Not that Izzy had any problem with that…at least until Mrs. Jameson from 6D shoved her head out of her front door and shrieked at them to get a room, the nosy old bint.

Fumbling with the keys, the two of them had practically fallen through the door. Izzy kicked it shut behind them with a resounding bang that probably woke half the building. She didn't care, though. About a millisecond after the door closed, Nathan started working at the buttons of her old, flannel shirt while she began pulling at his T-shirt. If she was being honest, the process hadn't been entirely romantic or sexy, at least not in the typical sense. Nathan was cursing at the buttons like they were fighting back and in the process of Izzy trying rip off that fucking shirt it had gotten caught on his head. It was a disaster, really. But at the same time it was absolutely perfect. The both of them were nervous—he was inexperienced and she was out of practice—and when they had finally managed to shed the rebellious clothing he pulled her towards him, wrapping a hand behind her neck and smashing their lips together into a searing kiss. At that Izzy had become slightly light-headed, leaning into the kiss and deepening it until everything else fell away. At least until Nathan tripped over the trousers now pooling around his ankles and sent them careening into the card table.

Laughing and giggling, they finally made their way to the mattress where, through a series of awkward moves and caresses, excited laughter, and frantic, heated kisses, they finally put an end to all those weeks of what were now revealed to be cheesy, longing glances and unfulfilled sighs. And for once, it wasn't that fucking baby in 6C that was keeping people awake.

When it was over, Nathan collapsed on the bed next to her. The both of them were sweaty and panting heavily and staring at the slow spinning of the fan above them that seemed to be trying to hypnotize them with the rhythmic movement of her bra as it danced before them in slow circles. They just kept staring at the ceiling, not saying anything, until after a few minutes Nathan shifted on his side so that he was looking at her. Izzy glanced at him through the corner of her eye, and what she saw there surprised her. It was uncertainty, insecurity, vulnerability. Nathan Young was scared. So she did the only thing she could think of. She rolled over on her side, fighting against the sheets that seemed to be wrapping around her like a straight jacket, and faced him. Then she smiled, moved a hand to the back of his neck, and pulled him in for another kiss. Not the quick, frantic ones born out of their earlier impatience and eagerness, but a slow, tentative one.

But that was last night. It was morning now, and everything looks different in the cold light of day. Not that she wanted it to be—she really didn't—but Nathan Young was nothing if not unpredictable, and she was left with that little nagging question: What's next? Usually Izzy had a plan, a goal, some kind of endgame. She usually made damn certain she could control what was going to happen next, but this time it was entirely out of her hands. It was in Nathan's hands—God help her.

Izzy's eyebrows creased as her face pinched into a slight frown. Seeing Nathan like this—asleep—was always so fucking deceitful. It made things seem so simple when he was like that. There was no shield or armor or inappropriate, sexually explicit witticisms to put you off or hide behind. But then it occurred to Izzy that he was not asleep.

"You know watchin' me sleep like that kinda makes me want to revisit that whole 'you're stalkin' me idea," he mumbled, his voice scratchy and thick from just waking up. So this is what he sounded like first thing in the morning.

Izzy rolled her eyes and grabbed her pillow, smacking him in the face with it. "And how long were you pretending to be asleep so you could make that joke?" she bit back sarcastically. "Twenty minutes? An hour?"

"How do you know I was fakin'?" Nathan demanded, raising his eyebrows suspiciously. "You can't know that."

Izzy snorted and pushed herself up on her elbows, peering down at him through narrowed eyes. "When you're actually sleeping you sound like a hibernating bear with emphysema," she replied dryly. "Also," she continued, poking him in the cheek, "there wasn't nearly enough drool to be plausible."

Looking down at Nathan, Izzy nibbled her lip uncertainly, but then a wide, confident smirk spread across Nathan's face. He lifted the thin sheet covering the two of them—the only thing separating them from open air—and took a long, slightly lewd look at what was underneath, making his 'naked lady' face. "Well it looks like this time we're both violatin' the house rules, aren't we?" he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "How would you like to punish me?"

Izzy scoffed and hit him with the pillow again. "Stop being a pervert," she said, sitting up fully and pulling the sheets around her form.

Nathan gaped at her theatrically, but a smile was still pulling at the corners of his lips. "I'm not a pervert!" he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart in fake outrage. "If I'm anything, I'm a bona fide sex god. All that moanin' last night—I'm surprised one of your neighbors didn't call the police on us—file some sort of noise complaint."

Izzy flushed heavily and felt a self-conscious smile start to form, but still rolled her eyes. "You are such an ass-hat," she mumbled, scratching at her forehead a bit, trying to conceal the blush with her hands.

Nathan's smirk just widened even further. "An ass-hat with major skills between the sheets. I think—I think I should be gettin' some sort of award or something."

Izzy shoved him hard, making him yelp and fall off the side of the mattress. "Alright, 'sex god'," she grumbled in a slightly hostile voice, "how's about next time you try not high-fiving yourself and say 'booyah, that happened'. Somehow that doesn't get me all hot and bothered."

Scrambling back onto the bed, Nathan gave her a suspicious look that made her fidget uncomfortably. "So you're sayin' there's goin' to be a 'next time'?"

Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Izzy froze, feeling every muscle clench and tense up at her involuntary admission. She cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her hair anxiously. "I guess that depends on you," she said in as calm a voice as she could manage. "I don't do any of that 'open relationship', 'friends with benefits', 'casual fuck' kind of shit. Call me a prude or whatever, but that's just not how I….go about things." Izzy drew her knees up to her chin, pulling the sheets up with them, and wrapped her arms around them and pulling herself into a tight little ball. It was like she was trying to make herself as small as possible—inconspicuous, even—so she could just melt away and avoid this entire situation, and the way that Nathan was looking at her. She exhaled sharply and bit her lip. "Look, that's me. That's my deal. You're either in or you're out, and the clock starts now."

At that point everything started sounding really, really loud. The dripping sink, the honking car horns from outside, the creaking of the floorboards as people walked back and forth down the hallway—it was just so, so loud. And all that loudness was just magnifying the creeping silence coming from Nathan. He had his 'thinking face' on—narrowed eyes, pursed lips and all that. As she sat there, with the clock ticking and uncertainty growing, Izzy began to want to do something violent—slap him upside the head or flick him in the ear or come at him at him like that creepy Nazi with the dentist drill from 'Marathon Man'. She placed her chin on her knees and drummed her fingers against her shin more and more quickly. Eventually Nathan blew out a long breath and looked at her. "Okay, sure," he said in a retrained-sounding voice. "Yeah, man, let's do this thing."

A small surge of happiness flooded through Izzy. Nathan sounded all blasé and casual about it, but she knew him well enough to understand the subtext that was there. And she knew he was just as freaked out and inept when it came to these sort of things as she was. She bit the inside her cheek to fight back the smile. "'Okay, sure'?" she drawled out in a sarcastic tone. "'Let's do this thing'? Well don't I just feel like Scarlet fucking O'Hara in that dress she made out of those fucking curtains. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, don't you?"

"Aw, come on, Izzy," Nathan whined, collapsing back on the pillows. "You know that I'm no good at that girly shit. What do you want from me? Flowers? Some sort of fancy lube that heats up when you—"

Not wanting to hear the end of that particular sentence, Izzy leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. The response was almost instantaneous. He brought one hand behind her neck, deepening the kiss, and circled the other one around her back. Izzy let out a small, excited squeak as he pulled her body flush against his, moving his lips from her mouth and trailing them down her neck, from her ear to her clavicle. Then he flipped them over so she was underneath him, kissing her and kissing her as Izzy let out a giggle that didn't sound like her voice at all. She pulled his mouth back up to meet hers. Neither of them was showing any desire to stop, but then they were interrupted by possibly the most obnoxious sound of all time.

Izzy's alarm clock started blaring out that loud, blaring sound you usually hear in films when the nuclear core of some massive mechanical device or another is about to explode. Nathan groaned loudly and Izzy shoved him off of her, crawling to the other side of the bed so she could turn it off. Nathan was lying there, hands over his ears and muttering a stream of curses until Izzy hit the appropriate button and got the goddamn machine to shut the fuck up. When the sound finally stopped, Nathan sat up eagerly and made his way over to her, lips slightly puckered. "All right, then!" he said excitedly. "Where were we?"

When his face approached hers, Izzy lifted a single finger and pressed it to his lips. "Slow your roll there, Casanova," she said, gathering the sheet back around her. "That's time. We've got to get ready."

Nathan groaned and reached out for the edge of the blanket, only to have Izzy smack it away. "Come on, Ginger," he moaned petulantly. "We can't just leave it at that."

Izzy stood up, taking the sheets with her and flipping Nathan unceremoniously onto the floor next to the mattress. "I'm afraid I can," she said, smirking at him. She grabbed her robe from a nearby closet, slipped on her flip flops and grabbed her shower caddy, and moved to the door. When she got there, she paused and glanced over at Nathan, who was still lying in a heap on the floor. "Put some trousers on, Nathan," she said through a smile. "It's house rules." And then she quickly darted out of the flat, closing the door behind her, but not before hearing the stream of quite creative curses issued from Nathan's mouth. One thing was for sure, she was going to slather a hell of a lot of makeup over that hickey. And she was going to be wearing her hair down today.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Getting Nathan out of her flat and to the community was like herding cats. Or toddlers. Or flubber. Regardless of the simile being used, it was difficult. But as with all of those things, excepting the flubber, all she needed was food. You feed Nathan, he fails to concentrate on anything except the food, which gave her the opportunity to usher him along, like pulling a disgruntled puppy along the path. When the two of them finally did appear at the community center, he let out a loud, juvenile groan.

"How the fuck do you manage it," he whined, playing absently with the ends of her hair. "I have enough fuckin' trouble waking up for this shit when I'm sleepin' in the community center. How do you manage to wake up early enough and not want to gauge out someone's eyes."

"I don't always," Izzy replied, swatting his hand away. "Sometimes I want to gauge out your eyes."

"You could never do that," he replied, smirking heavily. "Then you wouldn't be able to look at my beautiful face anymore."

Izzy shrugged her shoulders casually. "I think I'd be able to bear it."

"Liar."

As they walked into locker room, Nathan slung his arm over Izzy's shoulder casually, but in an oddly possessive way. Not that she minded, but it did present another potential issue: how the fuck were they going to tell everyone else? It was none of their fucking business, and what was she supposed to do? Sit them all down in a line and tell them that when a man and a woman find each other attractive, they rip off each others clothes and do the horizontal chacha? Fuck it. Kelly was a fucking telepath, Simon was already suspicious—let them figure it out on their own.

But when the two of them arrived, Izzy realized that their little development wasn't the only news for the day. There was someone else there—someone new—also wearing that terrible orange jumpsuit. The six of them trickled in slowly, but they all ended up in the same place—gaping at the guy like he was a part of some sort of zoo exhibit. And for good reason. He had a greasy rat tail with beads in it that were probably made from some sort of organic plant or something and sandals that were probably made of recycled plastic bottles. Izzy didn't think that sort of person existed outside of those hippie communes you see on the news. Jesus fucking Christ, he even had a pin with a giant technicolor peace sign on it attached to his jumpsuit. Had they all hitched a ride with Curtis back to the 1970s? And why the fuck was he smiling at them?

The probation worker strolled into the locker room, no explanation, not bothering to look any of them in the eye until Curtis called out and stopped him. "Hey," he shouted, making the probation worker do a double-take. "Who's the new guy?"

The probation worker just gave them a blank look and smacked the gum which always seemed to be in his mouth before turning back to Rattail. "What's your name again?" the probation worker asked in that usual, deadened voice of his. Rattail's smile faltered slightly as he glanced back and forth between the probation worker and the six of them who were still just sitting there, staring at him. "It's Ollie."

Of course his name was Ollie. It sounded like the name of a hyperactive, but well-meaning puppy. And now that Izzy thought about it, he kind of looked like a puppy.

"Right," the probation worker said through a yawn. "Well these are…some other young offenders." Izzy scoffed loudly. The bastard still hadn't bothered to learn their names. But then again she didn't know his name either. She was actually pretty sure that he had never given any of them his name. "Alright," the nameless probation worker continued, "he's going to be doing this community service thing with you lot."

Nathan, who was chewing on the drawstring of the hood of his sweatshirt spat it out dramatically and glared at the probation worker. "Are you sayin' that he's like a new member of the gang?"

The probation worker just stared at them blankly. "Whatever. Now piss off and pick up some litter." As the probation worker stomped out, Rattail—no, his name was Ollie—smiled at them brightly with the sort of enthusiasm Izzy found seriously off-putting. "Hi!"

No response.

Then the six of them changed into their jumpsuits faster than they ever had before and practically sprinted to the lobby to get away from the new guy. Curtis waved them all together and they huddled up like it was some fucking football match. "Whatever happens," he said in a loud, urgent whisper, "we can't let the new guy find out about our powers."

"I agree," Izzy whispered, earning her a nod of gratitude from Curtis. "There's just too much shit that's linked to our powers. All these fucking lies have gotten so tangled up…we out one secret, it might all start unraveling."

"Wot do we do if 'e doz find out?" Kelly asked anxiously.

"We kill him." All eyes snapped to Simon who was standing there with a dark glint in his eye that made Nathan's 'shark' analogy sound a lot more on point. Izzy was starting to get the shivers when all of the sudden an awkward smile broke out on Simon's face. "I'm joking."

"Oh-ho, you're makin' jokes now? Excuse us," he said waving everyone else off and rounding on Simon. "You're creepin' out of your weird little shell—I get that, good for you—but let's get one thing straight! I'm the funny guy around here!"

Izzy crept up behind Nathan and peered over his shoulder at Simon, mouthing the words 'mostly when he doesn't mean to be.' Simon let out a light snort and Nathan wheeled around to look behind him, only to find Izzy innocently examining her nail beds.

"Look, I think we'll be fine," Izzy said, looking poignantly at them all. "A criminal mastermind this guy is not. I mean, he wears mandals for fuck's sake."

"Wot da hell are mandals?" Kelly asked in a sarcastic tone.

Izzy looked back around and was met with blank looks. "Mandals?" she prompted, getting no response. "Man sandals?"

There was a collective groan of understanding until Alisha suddenly glanced to the entrance with a slightly worried expression on her face. "He's coming," she hissed, making them all spin around to face him. They unconsciously formed a straight line as Ollie strode awkwardly towards them, still with that annoying, self-righteous little smile. It might have slightly resembled a firing squad.

"Wot'd you get done for?" Kelly asked him as he ambled closer.

"I was arrested for vandalizing a coal-fire power station," he said with a smug sort of pride. "We were protesting against CO2 emissions."

And then Nathan abruptly cut him off with a loud groan, apparently mimicking the sound of a giant fart.

"That's a great counter-argument there, Nathan," Izzy said through a snort, patting him on the shoulder. "Are you sure you weren't on the debate team at some point."

Ollie just stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking slightly deflated (no pun intended). Izzy should probably have felt bad for him—it's not like she was anti-environment—but this little twat seemed like self-righteous type of activist. You know, the one who does good things so that he can _say_ he did good things as opposed to because it was actually the right thing. Fucking hypocrites. It there was one thing Izzy could not abide, it was a hypocrite. Anyways, the awkwardness didn't last very long. Ollie took another step forward with that same eager expression. "Have any of you got one of these weird powers?" He was met by a chorus of 'are you crazy's and 'what the fuck are you talking about's and his smile just grew. "Well I'm only asking because I've got one."

There was a short silence. Nathan, not one to be out-awesomed by a mandal-wearing guy with a rattail scoffed and straightened to his full height. "Oh, yeah, us too," he said in a self-congratulatory voice. He glanced around at the rest of them who were glaring back angrily and the shot them all a sheepish smile. "I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"What can you do?" Simon asked, nodding at Ollie who was absently playing with his rattail.

"Me?" he replied, quirking up a single eyebrow. "I can teleport."

"Let's see ya do it then," Kelly spat, rolling her eyes.

The smile faded from Ollie's face a bit and he began to shift awkwardly, but eventually put a look of extreme concentration on his face and started thrashing about a bit. For a second Izzy thought he was about to shit himself, but then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished completely. Izzy let out a low whistle and there were a few murmurs of 'whoa'—one even coming from Nathan. The wide-eyed wonder didn't last all that long, though. Someone cleared their throat form somewhere behind her and Izzy turned around to see Ollie leering over her shoulder.

"That's shit," Kelly said in a deadpan voice. "Ya could've walked there quickah."

"Sometimes I get further than that," Ollie replied defensively.

"That's really impressive," Alisha said through a scoff.

"Yeah, I honestly thought somethin' more excitin' was goin' to happen," Nathan piled on.

One by one they started trailing off, leaving Ollie looking positively scandalized. Eventually it was just Ollie and Izzy, who was standing there with her hands shoved in her pockets. He looked at her hopefully and she shot him a pitying smile. "Don't forget your mandal," she said, pointing at the shoe he had somehow managed to leave behind. Then she spun on her heal and marched out after the others, forcing him to trail after her.

Izzy didn't think that picking up litter could possibly become any more annoying than it already was, but some how this twat managed to make it even worse. Picking up other peoples litter that may or may not be steeped in various bodily fluids was bad enough to begin with, but Ollie was just so goddamn chipper. All those comments about how great the work they were doing was, how they were cleaning up the environment, how they were making a difference, blah, blah, blah. The litter covering the Estate was like those tribbles on that episode of of Star Trek—I bred and duplicated and shit.

"Do you think they recycle all this?" she heard him ask from somewhere in the background. Izzy rolled her eyes involuntarily. Of course they didn't fucking recycle it.

All of the sudden Izzy felt a looming presence over her shoulder and glanced up to see Nathan leaning over her. "So how should we let 'em know?" he whispered conspiratorially.

"Hm?" she asked absently, using her litter-picker to grab hold of a Styrofoam cup.

"About you and me," he said, gesturing between the two of them.

Izzy just shrugged her shoulders and kept walking. "I don't see why we have to tell them at all."

There was a short moment of silence and all of the sudden Izzy felt like she had just said something very, very wrong. Nathan let out a nervous sort of laugh. "What, are you embarrassed by me or some shit like that?"

Izzy squeezed her eyes shut. She was a fucking idiot. She quickly spun around and looked him directly in the eye. "No. Absolutely not….much."

He just raised his eyebrows and planted his hands on his hips. "Oh, really? 'Cause it kinda seems like—"

Izzy quickly pushed herself up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. It was a quick kiss, not long enough for anyone else to notice, but long enough to shut him up. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Izzy sighed and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. "Look," she said in a low voice, "we're both shit at this kind of thing, okay? I think we just need some time to figure out this—" she gestured between the two of them "—to find out what this is. I just don't want to have to deal with all of the other bullshit—all the questions and the looks and stuff. I know I don't want anything to do with Curtis and Alisha's shit." And then she mentally substituted Simon's name, because there was definitely something going on with that. Nathan narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, making her sigh heavily and shove her hands in her pockets. "Look, you can tell everybody you're getting laid on a regular basis soon enough. Just—just give it a little time."

And then, for some reason, a massive shit-eating grin spread across his face. "So I'm gettin' shagged on a 'regular basis' then, huh?" he said, blowing her a kiss.

Izzy groaned and spun on her heal and stomped off in the opposite direction. "You're a dickhead, you know that?" she shouted over his shoulder. Nathan was in the process of shouting something back, but she wasn't paying attention. There was some bloke sprinting towards him, wild-eyed like he was running for his life.

"What's with this guy?" Curtis asked curiously.

The bloke continued to run straight at them, giving no indication of stopping and almost running over Nathan as he brushed by. "He's fucking crazy!" he shouted over his shoulder as the disappeared into the distance. They were left to ponder the oddity for about half a second before they heard screeching tires and smelled burnt rubber. A red sports car sped around the corner, coming to a halt a few meter in front of them.

"Huh, you think he was talkin' about this fella?" Nathan asked, for some reason amused by the whole situation. Izzy on the other hand eyed the guy warily.

Smoke was rising from the treads of the tires and the door slowly opened, like a character intro from some bad 1980s action film. The bloke that climbed out of the car, what with his strange, brightly colored clothing, only served to cement that image. He stared at them all with theis weirdly intense gaze. He took a few steps and glowered even more. "Where's Conti?" he asked in a dramatic voice.

"Oh, that's him," Nathan said, gesturing over at Simon with his litter-picker. "He's a right Cunt-i."

Then the bloke sort of fixated on Simon with a murderous expression that was really making Izzy start to worry.

"Did you think I was goin' to let it go?" the guy said in an oddly robotic voice. "I want my money."

"Well then you're shit out of luck mate," Izzy said, taking a few small steps backwards. "None of us have got any fucking money."

"Don't be stupid, Ginger," Nathan said, still far too cheery in Izzy's opinion. "Go on Simon," he continued, jerking his head in Simon's direction. "Give the man his money."

"I—I haven't got your money," Simon stammered out, glancing at Izzy anxiously.

Then Kelly stepped forwards a bit, gaping widely at the bloke in that way she did sometimes. All of the sudden the guy's head snapped away from Simon to look at Kelly, like he was a fucking robot or something. "Roxy?" he said in that weird voice. "So you're with him now? I was waitin' for you at the church when the cops picked me up."

"I'm no' bein' funny, mate, but you're actin' like a right narc."

"He's clearly suffering from some sort of mental illness," Ollie said in a superior sounding voice.

"Yeah, no shit," Izzy said, taking another step back.

"I want my money," the bloke repeated again.

"Let me talk to him," Ollie said, dropping his litter-picker and trash bag.

"Just leave it," Alisha replied, clearly getting agitated herself.

"It's okay," he said, patting her on her fabric-covered shoulder in the most patronizing way possible. "I had some training in conflict resolution."

"This should be entertaining," Nathan said through a grin.

"Shut the fuck up," Izzy hissed angrily at Nathan before turning to Ollie. "Seriously, mate. Alisha's right, just leave it. What the fuck are you going to do? Hold his hand and sing 'We Are the World'?"

But Ollie just ignored her, taking a few steps forward with that unbearably smug smile. "What's you're name?" he asked the guy, like he was talking to a toddler or a stray dog looking for its owner. Izzy swore heavily and took a few steps after the idiot, ready to grab his collar and pull him back. "It's okay," she heard him say. "I'm not going to hurt you."

And then there was the sound of a gun going off, followed by a loud crash, and Izzy found herself falling backwards and colliding hard with the asphalt under her feet. Then there was screaming and a heavy weight crushing her chest. Looking down she saw Ollie, lying on top of her with a perfectly circular bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Izzy shoved his body off her and looked up at the guy, her eyes wide with fear. He was holding a gun and staring at the windshield of his car, which had shattered. Izzy, her eyes fixed on him, started scrambling backwards. Then a hand grabbed her under her arms and forced her to her feet. It was Nathan. Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a moment and then he said a single word.

"Run."

So she did.

**There's chapter 32 (chapter title fakeout). I hope you liked it. I kind of wanted a love scene without turning it into a lemon/smut, and I wanted it to be realistic for these two. As Adela (perceptive as she is) has pointed out several times, Nathan is seriously inexperienced when it comes to this kind of stuff. And Izzy…she never was a 'one night stand' kind of girl, but the last REAL relationship she had was Ian, and that was over four years before this, so she was a bit awkward as well.**

**Also, I want to keep the relationship a bit tenuous at this point. Neither of them are good at 'defining the relationship' so it's still a bit iffy and they're both still unsure of each other, but what I REALLY want with these two is to have them grow together.**

**Anyways, I hope you like the beginning of their little dysfunctional romance. It won't be without bumps, but there it is!**

**Come on, guys, let's get some reviews! You've been waiting for this part, right? Leave a message and tell me what you think. Pretty please.  
**


	33. Coping Mechanism

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this is a chapter repost. Like I said last time, I was severely disappointed in the chapter. I kind of hated it. So I changed the bits with Nathan in it. After writing Izzy's reaction to Ollie, I think I got a bit tired and lazy with my writing, and so the scenes involving Nathan have been pretty radically changed.  
**

**Oh, and I've started developing a soundtrack for the story with 3-5 songs per chapter. I love music and sharing it with people, so if you would check it out, tell me what you think, and leave song suggestions, I would really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did.**

Chapter 33 – Coping Mechanism

She should be dead. By all rights, she should be dead right now, her body lying crushed underneath a greasy hippie with a giant, gaping hole in her skull. How could she be sure that she wasn't dead? Maybe she had died during that first day of community service. You don't just walk away from that kind of shit. Maybe they were all dead and living in some weird sort of purgatory situation like in 'Lost' where they have to live through a bunch of crazy science fiction crap before getting their happily-ever-after end scenario. That was what happened right? Was that why people kept dying? Aw, who gives a shit? She had stopped watching after series three. Anyways, they had gotten giant smoke monsters and electromagnetic force fields and that kind of bollocks, the ASBO shitheads had gotten superpowers.

Running usually made Izzy feel alive. There was something about the adrenaline pumping, the sound of blood rushing in her ears, like waves crashing against the shore, the rhythmic feeling of her feet hitting the ground—somehow they all managed to come together and make her feel so…aware. She could see more clearly she could feel the movements of her own body more acutely. When she was running she felt in control. But running for her life…that was a very, very different story. As her feet pounded against the pavement there was no rhythm. It was complete bloody chaos. She stumbled, she tripped, she fell to her hands and knees only to scramble back up again, ignoring the stinging pain radiating from her now scraped and bloodied palms. Hell, she didn't even feel it. She didn't feel alive, she felt numb. She felt dead.

Somehow the six of them all found themselves on the roof of a nearby building, lying on their backs pressing themselves as close to the ground as they could. Izzy just wanted to melt away-to evaporate and find herself out of that situation. She wanted to pretend that what taken place had never, ever happened. She hadn't even seen the gun everything had devolved so quickly, and then she was lying under a corpse. You would think that with all the corpses she had had to handle over the past few weeks this would have been small potatoes. But it wasn't. It never should be. By all rights she should still be lying there on that asphalt with that little prick Ollie. The bullet should have exploded through his skull and then embedded itself in hers. But it didn't. Her power had sent it ricocheting back towards the mental guy and through the windshield of his car. It had broken glass, not her brain.

How the hell did it all get decided—who lived and who died? Was it random chance or some sort of divine intervention? If the first, why was it that she always ended up being the lucky? The statistics just didn't add up and it kept making less and less sense. If it wasn't luck, what the fuck had she done to get herself this kind of karmic protection? Why was she the one who kept getting a pass? She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to steady her breathing. Short, shallow breaths. If she kept gulping down air that way, she was going to pass out. And she couldn't count her chickens before they hatched. The six of them weren't out of the woods yet. That guy was still out there. Or at least she thought he was.

After what could have been five seconds or five hours, Izzy heard a noise near her that sounded like the rubber of sneakers against the grainy concrete of the roof. She finally wrenched her eyelids open and looked in that direction to see Nathan shimmying over to the edge to look over the side. Oh, shit.

"Nathan!" she hissed quietly, trying to grab at the orange fabric around his ankles and drag him back towards her. "Nathan, stop trying to be a fucking hero and get your arse back here right now!"

He ignored her and raised his head slightly to peer down at the concrete jungle below, only to duck his head down again immediately, letting out a faint, unmanly squeak. Izzy, assuming he saw the bastard, grabbed hold of his ankle again, but he kicked slightly, making her release him. He's immortal. That's something she needed to remind herself of. He couldn't die. He was immortal. Izzy, trying to calm herself down, flipped onto her back again and began rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands. But when she did, her fingertips came into contact with her hair where she felt wet blood and little sharp fragments of bone. She began tearing at her hair, trying to get it out—trying to get it all out—picking out the bits and throwing them to the floor next to her. She wanted to vomit.

"He shot him!" Alisha burst out in a panicked voice. "He shot the new guy!"

"Maybe we should go back fo' 'im," Kelly said in a panicked voice.

"He was shot in the head," Curtis reasoned through heavy panting breaths. "He's fucked!"

"We don' know that!" Kelly exclaimed. "Maybe 'e's—"

"His eyes were open," Izzy responded in a deadened tone, interrupting Kelly's loud whispers. "When he fell, his eyes were open. If you're unconscious or something like that, you're eyes close instinctively. His eyes were open. He's dead."

"Are you sure?" Alisha asked quietly.

Izzy let out a bitter laugh and nodded, though she was fairly certain none of them were looking at her. "I just pulled a chunk of his cerebral cortex out of my hair, so, yeah. I think it's a safe bet."

"Hey, no, it's okay!" Nathan suddenly shouted from his position at the edge of the roof, snapping eagerly and pointing across the Estate in the direction of the lake. "He's fine! He's over there!"

No, that was impossible. He was dead. If there was one thing that Izzy understood, it was dead. The glassy eyes, the face frozen in that last expression, like the person themselves hadn't realized yet that they were, in fact, dead. Or at least their body refused to acknowledge it. Ollie—that last look on his face was that smug expression of superiority and do-goodership. It made Izzy wonder, was the last expression on your face one that sums up who you were as a person? And if that was true, what would that last expression on her face be? What would it say about her?

Fuck. This wasn't the time for daydreaming or philosophizing or falling into some psychological state of shock. Their lives were on the line, Ollie was dead…or was he. Izzy flipped over onto her stomach and followed Curtis, who was already shimmying to the edge to look in the direction that Nathan was pointing. She squinted and shielded her eyes against the sun, her gaze following the direction of Nathan's outstretched hand until her eyes fell on…..absolutely nothing.

"I don't see him," Curtis said, glancing back and forth, scanning the entire courtyard below them.

"Me neither," Izzy whispered back. Then Kelly, Alisha, and Simon crawled to the edge as well, leaving all six of them lined up, eyes darting around frantically, leaving Izzy sandwiched between Curtis and Nathan.

"Oh," Nathan said, with the slightest bit of regret. "Well then that must be his ghost. Which means he's not at all okay, on account of him bein' dead."

"Ugh, dis is messed op," Kelly groaned heavily.

"No shit," Izzy said, rubbing at her forehead to stave off a headache. When she pulled her hand back, her fingertips, once again, were covered in blood, making her frantically wipe them on the orange fabric of her jumpsuit. She needed it off of her.

"Hey!" Nathan called out, waving at nothing in particular. "Hey, new guy! Sorry you got shot mate!" There was a short pause and the mildly apologetic expression on Nathan's face morphed into a pissed off one. "Hey, fuck you!" he shouted, flipping the bird. Who flips off a ghost?

"What was that?" Curtis demanded hostilely.

Nathan spluttered a bit, but was promptly cut off by Alisha. "He just got shot in the face and you're insultin' him?"

"He made an obscene gesture!" Nathan replied defensively. "I don't care if he's dead, there's no excuse for rudeness!"

Izzy's head snapped to look at him and she raised her eyebrows. "Did my ears just hear what my brain is telling me they heard? Because that is pretty fucking ironic."

"Aw, come on, Izzy," Nathan groaned. "The twat nearly got you killed with all his 'conflict resolution' bullshit. I'm not exactly inclined to be nice to the fucker in the first place. Who the fuck walks up to a mental like that anyway?"

Izzy blinked and looked into his eyes, and underneath all of that devil-may-care flippancy there was genuine fear. In her mind she flashed back to that moment not fifteen minutes ago when he helped her to her feet and they started to run. She had thought that she was dead. Maybe for a minute there he had thought so too.

"You should rewind time," Simon mumbled, interrupting that little moment of theirs. Izzy broke her gaze ay from Nathan and turned to Curtis, who was suddenly nervous under all the expectant looks.

"You can save 'im," Kelly urged in a supportive tone. But at his hesitation, her support turned to hostility. "Go on then!"

Swearing under his breath, Curtis got to his feet. He slammed his eyes shut and his body tensed, making him look vaguely constipated. Big buildup and then…nothing. Not that they would be aware if anything happened anyway. But they all looked at him with disappointed and mildly judgmental eyes—some of them scoffed—making him bristle in response. "Well I didn't know him!" he growled defensively. "If Izzy had died with him then maybe I'd be able to, but the other guy….I'm just not feelin' it."

"Yeah," Nathan said in a tone of commiseration. "He was a bit of a twat."

Izzy pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "Nathan, just because everybody else is thinking something doesn't mean that you can actually say it out loud."

Kelly let out a loud scoff. "There's somefin' wrong wiv the two of you," she muttered with a little bit of disgust in her voice.

"Aw, come on, seriously?" Nathan complained, rounding on Kelly. "He was never goin' to fit in, What with all the carin' about the environment an' that. Better him than me."

"You're immortal," Simon pointed out, a little bit of derision seeping into his voice. Nathan reconsidered for a moment. "Better him than one of you."

After that they were quiet, watching out for that fucking lunatic and hoping that he didn't find them. Eventually the coast was declared clear, and they made their way back to the community center. Simon headed to the probation worker to tell him what happened, and the rest of them made their way to the locker room to get cleaned up and go home. Izzy, though—she hid in the toilets till everyone else was done. She didn't tell anyone where she was going or why she was going, but she walked into one of those stalls, sat on the toilet and drew her legs up so nobody could see that she was there. Maybe it was because she didn't want to be around other people when she cleaned herself up, but if she was telling the truth, she just really didn't want to look in the mirror just yet. It really wasn't doing her any good, avoiding the issue. She could feel the blood in her hair that was clotting and matting it together and there was that sort of tightness in the skin of her face, that sort of tension in the movement where it had been drenched and then dried up again. Izzy listened for the slamming of the lockers. One, two, three, four…and finally five. And then she unlocked the door.

When she got to the sinks, Izzy was glad that she waited till everyone else had left. As soon as she saw her reflection, she rushed over to the nearest bin and clutched the edged as she retched, suddenly regretting her decision to wear her hair down that day when the tips dipped into the vomit. She let a hacking cough as the acid burned her throat and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the involuntary tears cling to her eyelashes. After a few deep breaths she moved back to the sink, washing the taste from her mouth. Gripping the white porcelain tightly, she forced herself to look at her reflection one more time. Her face was covered in blood. Seeing what she was seeing right now, she would have thought somebody would have told her, but they didn't. The face she was looking at—it was like she was a fucking football fan who had decided to paint their face their team's color, as long as that color was a slightly blackened rusty red.

Izzy wrenched the handle of the sink to turn the water on as high a level as possible and began to scrub furiously at her own skin. She had to get it off of her. She scrubbed and she scrubbed, and she tried to shove her head under the faucet under the spigot to get it out of her hair, but even when she got it off of her body it was still there. The water was filling up the sink, and the faint, diluted red still contrasted sharply with the white. Izzy quickly shut off the water to that sink and moved to one further down the row. She unzipped her jumpsuit, yanking it down to her waist, and continued to wash at her hands, trying to get all of her clean. But that moment was still in her head—the one where Ollie's brains had splashed all over her like someone had thrown a water balloon at her face. Only it wasn't water.

That was how Nathan found her—standing at the sink wearing only her bra and scrubbing beneath her fingernails. Izzy was still busy trying to make it so that the water wasn't pink anymore when she heard that lilting Irish voice from somewhere behind her.

"What are you still doing here? I thought everyone had gone. You just kind of disappeared and..."

Izzy glanced over her shoulder to see him leaning against the doorframe of the locker room and shrugged in response before turning back to the sink. "I had to clean up. I don't really want to be taking any of this shit home with me so—"

"Jesus!"

Izzy stopped talking to shoot Nathan a weird look, only to find him standing right behind her, staring over her shoulder and down at her hands, which she was still running under the tap. She followed his gaze and caught sight of her left palm. There was a thin, fairly deep gash running across the center of her hand, probably formed from one of her own nails, that was pouring blood into the oncoming stream of water.

"Shit," she said simply, pulling her hand out of the water. "I didn't even realize I did that."

"How could you not fucking realize that?" Nathan demanded, grabbing a few paper towels from a nearby dispenser. "It must sting like a bitch."

Izzy just shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she said dully. "Sometimes when shit happens—I mean bad shit, like today—I kind of check out I guess. Go all robot. Does not compute, blah, blah, blah."

Nathan pressed some of the paper towels to her hand. The pressure finally made her body aware of the wound and a sharp, stinging pain shot up from her palm down her arm, eliciting a loud hiss.

"Don't be such a fuckin' baby," he muttered, pressing his thumb in a bit harder. She rolled her eyes and he just glowered back.

Izzy sighed heavily—wearily—and rubbed at her forehead absently. "Why do I always end up being the one who lives? Why am I not dead yet?"

"What the fuck are you on about?" Nathan said, not bothering to look up.

"You know the night my mum died I was actually supposed to be at home?"

Then Nathan's hand slipped, his thumb digging into her palm, eliciting a flinch before. He finally looked her full in the face, with an expression fairly reminiscent of a scared baby. Izzy didn't know what exactly what it was that made her say that, and now the quiet that followed it made her need to keep talking. She closed her fist around that mass of paper towels Nathan had shoved into it and cleared her throat nervously before leaning back against the sink with the edge digging into her back.

"It was a weekday, and I was never, _ever_ allowed to have sleepovers on weekdays, but I had this friend Rachel and it was her birthday. 'Just this once, chickadee,' she told me. 'Just this once for Rach's birthday.' Then the next day I come home from school expecting a hug and a plate of macaroni and cheese, and instead I find a couple of policeman, a chalk outline, and a shitload of blood. A little bit have me has always thought that I should have died that night. And if I think for a while I even wished I had. Then there's today where that fucker holds a gun a few feet from my head and pulls the trigger and I don't die, but the poor sap next to me gets blown to kingdom come. Where's the fucking logic? Who makes up these fucking rules?"

Then Nathan gave her this look—one she had seen before. She was that little porcelain doll sitting on the edge of the shelf, about topple over the edge and he was the person standing nearby who really didn't want to step on the glass, or clean up the mess. He raised his eyebrows theatrically and shoved his hands in his pockets, letting out a long whistle. "You're a bit mental, aren't you?" he asked once the whistle.

"Maybe a little," Izzy said through a falsely light-hearted laugh as she moved towards her locker. "Get out while you can." She slammed her fist into the metal and jimmied the handle until the locker popped open. Grabbing the clothes pooled up at the bottom, she stood straight and found Nathan looking at her again, this time leaning against a nearby set of lockers.

He wrinkled his nose in thought and narrowed his eyes a little, giving Izzy the distinct feeling she was being weighed and measured. "Nahhh," he drawled out casually. "I'm not that much of a pussy. Plus the crazies are always awesome in the sack."

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Izzy replied with a laugh—a genuine one this time—and threw a book in the general direction of his head, eliciting a loud yelp when it hit his nose. "How the fuck did you ever manage to get laid?"

Nathan scowled a bit and rubbed at the point of collision. "Well I think you're the fucking genie with all the answers to that question, seein' as I managed to get into your knickers."

"Don't make me regret it," she bit back sarcastically, yanking her shirt over her head, "and I seriously doubt there was that much of a buildup with all your other conquests."

Nathan didn't respond. He just stood there silently as she changed back into her street clothes and grabbed her bag, watching her and looking like he desperately wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. "So where are you goin'?" he asked casually as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

Izzy sighed and brought her hand to her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face. "Home," she said in an exhausted voice. "I'm going home, I'm going to take a shower, I'm going to get a little bit drunk off of some girly drink like a fucking White Russian, I'm going to watch some costume drama chick flick movie, and then I'm going to pass out. And then, when I wake up tomorrow morning, I'm going to be back to normal. None of the crazy will be making an appearance." She walked up to him and rose up on her tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss against his lips before rocking back on her heels again. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? It'll be better tomorrow."

She had gotten to the door of the lock room when she heard him call out her name.

"Izzy, we're still good right?"

She looked over her shoulder and shot him a wide, toothy grin that really didn't match what was going on her head, but felt necessary. "We're fucking great, Nathan."

She turned to leave again, but before she managed to get out of the room, a hand encircled her wrist, holding her in place. Izzy swung her head back around to see Nathan looking at her with a look of something resembling concern. It was oddly tender, not an expression she was used to seeing on his face, but more than that it was confused, and a little bit afraid. "I know when shit like this happens you're supposed to say something to make it all better. The thing is...I really don't know what it is. So why don't you tell me and then I can say it back to you. That way everybody wins."

Izzy shot him a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders. "Nobody knows. And people who pretend they do are fucking liars."

Nathan pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her face into his chest, awkwardly patting at her hair. It was an odd hug, like he wasn't fully comfortable with it. His arms were around her, but they were rigid, like he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to be there. But he stayed anyway. "Don't you be afraid," he murmured quietly in a wise-sounding, Morgan Freeman voice. "Death is just a part of life, something we're all destined to do."

Izzy snorted loudly, wrapping her arms around his middle. "That's from 'Forest Gump', you twat."

"How many movies do you watch?" he demanded in frustration. "How the fuck am I supposed to sound deep if you remember every little fucking thing!"

Izzy inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of him-which wasn't objectively the best smell ever, but she loved it just the same. Jesus, they were both such train wrecks. Life had thrown a lot of shit at Izzy, but she had always managed to wade through it and come out the other side clean. Damaged, but still functional. The thing of it was, she was used to dealing with these kinds of things by herself. There had never really been anyone else there to help her through it, but she coped. That was what she did: coped. It was strange having Nathan there. The problem was that he was just about as equipped to give help as she was to accept it. So neither of them said anything at all. After a while Izzy took Nathan's hands in hers and pulled them from her waist, letting them drop. He cleared his throat awkwardly and immediately took a few steps back, absently scratching at the back of his neck. "So what's next? More hugging or can we go straight to the 'thank God we're alive' shaggin'? That's type of comfortin' I don't think I'd mind so much."

Izzy rolled her eyes and readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder before wordlessly turning around and walking out the door.

"Oh, come on!" he shouted after her. "I was tryin' to be considerate!"

"I'll see you tomorrow, you twat," she shouted over her shoulder, careful to keep the laughter out of her voice. "Go comfort yourself! I'm sure little Nathan wants some consideration as well!"

Then she wordlessly walking out of the community center, leaving Nathan behind her and not turning back. She needed to think. And drink. When Izzy got back to her flat, she did exactly what she said she was going to. At least the beginning part. It seemed like a good time to break out the pre-made chocolate chip cookies. She shoved about half of it into the toaster oven before heading to the shower, leaving the rest as dough. Dough was always better anyway. She would probably end up eating more of that than the actual cookies. The shower was short—she had already cleared most of the situation up with the hobo shower in the community center sink. When she padded back to her flat, clothed in that fluffy blue robe of hers with stringy, wet hair sticking to her forehead and the back of her neck, eager to trade in those flip flops for fuzzy slippers and get drunk on girly drinks while watching 'Clueless'. Or 'The Fifth Element'. But she got a little distracted when she unlocked the door to her flat.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

Izzy dropped that shower caddy of hers to the floor and clutched her robe tighter around her. For some reason Simon was sitting there on her windowsill, in her flat, eating one of the chocolate chip cookies she had shoved in the toaster oven, and had apparently totally forgotten about.

"You should work on time management," he said through a still unfamiliar smug little smirk. "These were about to burn."

Izzy took one of the flip flops off her feet and threw it at his head. "Thanks," she bit back bitterly. "That totally justifies you breaking into my flat. Again." She made a beeline for the liquor cabinet and grabbed the ingredients for a White Russian, mixing them together and grabbing the leftover roll of cookie dough before flipping on the telly and putting on 'The Fifth Element'. "What the fuck do you want, Simon?" she mumbled, tucking her legs underneath her.

"You wanted answers? I'm here to give you answers."

She scoffed heavily and took a long sip from her glass. "You really think that now is the best time for that sort of shit? You must remember what a fucking lovely day we had. Sun shining, birds chirping, senseless murder. That sounds like a great lead in for a little casual chat between friends."

Simon didn't say anything in response, but Izzy could hear his footsteps as he waked towards her. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a carton of coffee-flavored ice cream appeared in front of her face. This whole 'from the future' gig was a crock of shit. It was like he had cheat codes on how to make her not mad at him anymore. The fact that it was working so well made her lose just a little bit of respect for herself. Time to get a spoon.

"I couldn't save him," Simon said shortly, taking a seat on the armrest, his body armor or whatever the fuck it was making an uncomfortable sounding clicking noise. "There wasn't anything I could have done."

"I know," she mumbled, her mouth full of ice cream and liquor.

"You know?"

Izzy plopped back down on the couch and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You saw him die today, so you obviously couldn't change your own timeline. If you did that you might not come back in the first place—butterfly effect and all that shit." He raised his eyebrows at her, making her scoff angrily. "What your still surprised? I watch 'Doctor Who', I know all about paradoxes and that wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff. I get that. I get that you don't want me telling anybody about you. Now why did you come back?"

Simon suddenly got all cagey, refusing to look her in the eye. "I can't tell you that."

"What happens to us?"

"I can't tell you that either."

Izzy felt her hand tighten around the spoon in frustration. What the fuck could he tell her? He had come to give her answers, so where the hell were they? Maybe the only reason he came was to make himself even more mysterious than before. That took a special kind of narcissism.

"Why did you leave that note in my flat?" she asked suddenly. "I know you had to because I showed it to you, but it just doesn't make any sense to me. If you know me as well as you seem to, then there is no way you would think leaving that for me would actually make me stop looking."

A grin split over Simon's face. "I knew it wouldn't. That's why I left it."

"You wanted me to find you?"

He shrugged with a sort of casualness that still seemed unnatural to his body. "When we were looking for the guy in the mask, that's when we started really being friends. So I figured I'd help it along a bit."

Izzy wrinkled her nose and gave him a weird look. "So you're playing matchmaker for your past self? First you set up this weird friend-date with me and now you're doing whatever the hell it is you're doing with Alisha. Which is what by the way?"

"I'm not going to talk about that either."

Izzy glared at him for a moment, trying to elicit some sort of response, but the man was a rock. "Fine," she said, letting out a loud huff like a petulant child. "Outside you're bat cave, why didn't my power work on you? And with all the stealthing and shit why don't you just turn invisible?"

Simon's jaw started twitching anxiously. "Things are different in the future."

Izzy rolled her eyes, groaning loudly. "Not more of this 'I'm the inscrutable superhero' bullshit. It's annoying as fuck." She dug into the ice cream again. "What I don't get is why you don't want Alisha to know that I know."

"Because I might need to ask you to do something for me."

For the first time since Simon shoved that tub of ice cream in her hands, the spoon stopped moving. "You'll need me to do something? Something you don't want Alisha to know about?" His silence was answer enough. Izzy swore under her breath. "It really is all about her isn't it? Well it will be interesting to see how all this plays out."

Simon looked at the watch on his wrist and hopped off the armrest. "I've got to go."

"And you're using the front door," Izzy said, getting to her feet. "Well isn't this a refreshing change of pace."

Simon stopped at her door and smiled weakly. "I'll see you later."

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Izzy swore again, this time not at all under her breath. She walked up to the door and threw the lock shut. Almost as soon as she heard the loud click of the rusted deadbolt, there was a tapping sound from behind. She wheeled around to see Nathan on the fire escape at her window, holding a familiarly shaped cardboard box. Izzy quickly rushed over to him and yanked the window open, allowing him to spill into her flat, completely devoid of grace.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked, thoroughly confused.

"You said food makes everything better, right?" he said, hauling himself to his feet. "Well I still had half a pizza and a couple of beers from last night, so I figured I'd bring them over. Food, booze…that's all anybody ever needs, right?"

Izzy smiled and grabbed the pizza box, taking it over to the kitchen area. "You were scared of being alone in the community center alone, weren't you?"

"The place is fuckin' haunted," he whined, collapsing on the sofa and lounging so he took up pretty much the entire thing. Then he looked at her with a sort of adorable pleading expression. One look and Izzy caved. Not that she was ever going to send him away. "You can stay here tonight," she said, tossing a beer at him. "But I have dibs on the telly."

"Fine," he said, holding his hands up in submission. "What are we watchin'?"

Izzy grabbed hold of a couple of plates and threw some pizza on them before moving to the sofa herself. "'The Fifth Element'," she replied quickly, dropping the pizza in his lap.

"Is that a documentary about dirt or somethin'?" he asked, shoving the pizza in his mouth. "Because I think I'd rather get eaten alive by some fuckin' ghosts."

Izzy scoffed and elbowed him in the side. "Don't be an idiot," she growled back. She leaned on his shoulder and watched the screen as the opening credits started to roll.

"I'm glad you're here."

Then Nathan put his arm around her and pulled her in closer. And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel alone. Maybe her coping mechanisms could change.

**There. I hope that was better than the last version. I certainly think it is. Let me know what you think!  
**

**Input is always appreciated. Please review.**


	34. Second Thoughts

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**Thank you to Phaex, Adela, Lady Shagging Godiva, Becca, witchbaby300, BakerTennant'sTardis, ChayagraceDaya, LittleGee, and Guests 1 & 2 for reviewing.**

**Thanks for putting up with all the drama that was the last chapter and the drama and stuff. Nathan was a bit rude at first, and then I overcorrected and made them too lovey-dovey, and then I came to a happy, in-character medium. Thanks for putting up with me for that. In this chapter, there's a bit of Nathan/Izzy dysfunctional drama, but it will all work out in the end!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Misfits'. Did you really think I did? Any familiar dialogue was taken from the show**

**On my profile, saved as a different story, there is a soundtrack for 200 Hours that so far does through chapter 19.**

Chapter 34 – Second Thoughts

Izzy hated offices. She had hated them ever since she was a kid. Maybe it was the disgustingly beige walls or the carpets that were always that particular color of grey so you couldn't tell if it was dirty or not, or maybe it was those goddamn motivational posters. Once again, she felt the eyes of that 'Hang in There' cat staring at her. The thing needed to mind its own fucking business. But really, it wasn't the décor that had a tendency to piss her off. It was the authority associated with it—it was the person sitting behind the desk. They were always there to tell her what to do or how to do it, whether it was the grade school principal telling her not to sick gum in Ellie Galloway's hair or a social worker sending her to a new family. And it was especially annoying when the person sitting at that desk was a smug, pervy little bastard.

More than anything else, Izzy wanted to be home in bed. Last night she had fallen asleep on the sofa, leaning on Nathan's shoulder after having made it about two-thirds of the way through the movie. When she woke up, though, she was curled up in her bed, lying on her side with Nathan's arm wrapped around her middle, pulling him to her like she was a gigantic teddy bear or something. Turns out Nathan was a very clingy sleeper. Every time they ended up in bed together, she would always wake up in some sort of awkward embrace. This time his chest was pressed to her back and he was hugging her close. The strangest thing was that it didn't seem strange at all. Izzy had had her fair share of short lived romances, but she had never really invested anything in them. In the morning her bed was always cold, and for the longest time she thought that she liked it that way. She didn't want to be tied down, she wanted to be her own person, she refused to be one of those girls who define themselves by their relationships with men, she wouldn't be limited by other people's expectations of her—those were always her excuses for setting those sorts of ground rules. But now that Nathan's arm was around her, looking back on all those rules it became more and more clear that the word 'independent' could just as easily be substituted by 'lonely'.

Why hadn't it worked out with this way any of those other guys? Why was it Nathan over all the others that had somehow finagled himself the rights to an overnighter at Izzy's flat? Brian had been a sweetheart, but kind of dim. Rhys had been interesting at first—one of those tortured artist types—but eventually all of those rants about the 'cruel beauty' of this world started wearing thin. Sam—he had just generally been a dick. The truth is, she had just never really liked any of them to begin with. They were tolerable, but were placeholders, and honestly were all pretty boring. And then there was the fact that if she had ever let any of them realize how crazy she actually was, they wound have run away screaming, the pussies. It's easy to keep your distance from people when they don't actually know a thing about you. And if there was one thing that she was really, really good at, it was self-sabotage.

Nathan was different. With all the shit they had been through the past few weeks, she had somehow ended up revealing more of herself than she had to anybody else, except maybe Ian. Hell, yesterday in the locker room she might as well have stood under a flashing neon sign that screamed 'MENTAL, AVOID AT ALL COSTS!', but then he had showed up at the window of her flat anyway. And then he was in her bed. After pulling his arm tighter around her, Izzy realized that she liked the warmth of another human body next to her—and that was fucking terrifying. It's usually when you start expecting things to be around that they decide to leave you. Maybe it was better to leave them first. She snuggled in under the covers and decided to enjoy the moment for as long as it lasted. When her alarm finally rang, summoning them both to consciousness, Izzy couldn't fight that creeping feeling of disappointment and worry that it was all going to go to shit. Everything always went to shit—it was only a matter of time. She didn't want to go back to the real world of community service and Broadmoor escapees with guns, running around and shooting people like it was a fucking video game, but that was the world she lived in. How fucked up was that?

The six ASBO shitheads stood there, lined up in the office, squished into the tiny office like sardines in a can while the probation worker stared them down with a look of aggressive apathy. "The police want witness statements off all of ya," he said bluntly, smacking his gum like usual. "Just try not to screw it up, yeah? Because I really don't need them on my back. Do you think you can manage that?" He paused for a moment looking at them expectantly. I was actually the most engaged Izzy had ever seen him. When there was no objection he nodded slightly and muttered 'good' under his breath before twisting back around in his chair and began rifling through some papers.

"Iz tha' it?" Kelly demanded, her forehead wrinkling in both disgust and disbelief.

"Aren't you going to pretend to be even a little bit sad?" Alisha scoffed.

The probation worker spun around in his chair and gave them a withering look. "Do you know how much paperwork's involved when someone gets shot during community service?" he replied defensively. "I've got health and safety forms coming out of my arse over here!"

"Yeah," Izzy bit back sarcastically, just loudly enough for him to hear. "What's a human life compared to a few hours overtime?"

"I had third row seats to a football match last night that I had to miss for this shit," the probation worker retorted angrily. "So, sure. Yeah. We're all very sad. So there it is."

Izzy rolled her eyes and began to turn to the exit, muttering the word 'prick' under her breath, when all of the sudden Nathan held up a hand, indicating for them all to stop. His face had a forlorn, serious expression on it, which could only mean one thing. He was taking the piss.

"It's a cruel senseless waste," he said darkly, eliciting a loud groan from the probation worker. "A young man, taken from us in his prime, leavin' us to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives, knowin' that he's gone forever." Nathan paused a moment, and Izzy took the opportunity to rub at her forehead in frustration, fully aware of what was coming next. Her reaction was eerily similar to that of the probation worker, which was something she was not at all comfortable with.

"So maybe," Nathan continued, in a more light-hearted, eager tone, "we should have the rest of the week off! You know, to cry and grieve and remember our dear friend—"

Then Nathan's mouth opened in the shape of a large 'O', but no sound came out. The probation worker stared at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for the name that would never, ever come. Nathan shot Izzy a slightly pleading glance, but she just shook her head slightly in response. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at Simon who grudgingly offered up the name 'Ollie'.

"Ollie!" Nathan shouted, seizing on the name. "Dear, beautiful Ollie!"

The probation worker stared blankly at Nathan for a moment, gnawing absently on his pen cap. "Fuck off and give your statements to the police. Then clean up some fucking graffiti."

Nathan grumbled as they filed out of the office. He grumbled as they made their official statements to the police. He grumbled when they went to the storage closets for the paint and brushes and he grumbled as they walked across the Estate to the underpass. It probably wasn't the most considerate thing to do as his…whatever the hell that she was, but eventually Izzy got fed up and shoved her earphones in her ears, cranking up the music. It wasn't loud enough, though.

"Heartless bastard," Nathan said for the fortieth time, slapping some paint on the wall in front of him.

Izzy roller her eyes and ripped one of the earphones from her ears. "For fuck's sake, Nathan, will you give it a rest?" she groaned. "The dickhead was never going to give us the week off and even if he did we'd just have to make up the time later."

"But it's the principle!" he whined, gesticulating wildly with the brush and sending paint flying everywhere.

Izzy sighed and turned back to the wall, covering the painting of the giant cock with plain white paint, starting with the strange smiley face whoever it was had painted on the tip. That was some Freudian shit right there.

"We should do something," Simon said suddenly, making everybody else stop painting and turn to face him. "About the guy that shot Ollie," he elaborated. "We should do something."

"So you're talkin' about steppin' up to the plate and takin' him down?" Nathan said incredulously, waving the paintbrush at him. "I really don't see that happenin'."

"Nah, he's right," Alisha said suddenly. Izzy blinked in shock, and stared hard at the girl. Well Izzy couldn't quite say that she had expected that. Alisha had never been one to put herself out there for someone else, but there had been some changes lately—some significant, Simon-shaped changes that seemed to have been affecting her fairly drastically.

"Since when did you want to get involved in anything like this?" Curtis asked, the poor, clueless sap that he was.

"Uh, maybe since I got someone's brains blown out all over my face!" she shot back angrily.

"If we go op against 'im, one of os I gonna get out brains blown out," Kelly said harshly.

Simon started looking around at the rest of them, seeking any sort of support. "We can't just pretend that it didn't happen!" he said desperately, wheeling around and looking for support.

"Hey, I do that all the time!" Nathan replied. "It's like that fella in the Bible, yeah? The Good Samaritan? Walk on by?"

Izzy gritted her teeth and turned away from the blank wall. "Okay, Nathan, first of all your record of consistently misunderstanding metaphors hasn't been tarnished. Second of all, I agree with Simon."

"WHAT!"

Izzy folded her arms angrily in the face of all the incredulous stares and let out a huff. "Look I'm not saying we put on masks and capes and shit and dick around trying to be superheroes, but like it or not this shit always seems to come down to us. We're not through with it and there's no use trying to avoid it. "

Kelly scoffed and planted her hands on her hips. "Wot the hell do ya fink we should do?"

"I don't know yet," Izzy said with a shrug. "But it's worth a conversation isn't it? We can't just shut out eyes and stick our fingers in our ears like little kids, especially when he's still roaming around the Estate. I mean, it's not like we're out of the woods here."

"Yeah," Alisha added angrily, "and how are you going to feel if we do nothing and then we read in the paper that he's shot someone else!"

"I don't read the papers," Nathan said simply, as if that solved all the world's problems.

"How's that blissful ignorance worked out for you so far?" Izzy retorted.

Curtis let out bitter laugh and ran his hands down his face in frustration. "Alright," he spat, "so what are you lot gonna do when you find this guy and he sticks a gun to your head?"

"That's happened to me once already, remember?" Izzy said, turning back to the wall.

"Right and that worked out so well for you, did it?" Nathan in his typical blasé tone, but this time it had elements of hostility layered into it. "Are we lookin' forward to a rerun of last night's showing of 'Girl, Interrupted,' because don't sign me up for the fuckin' viewing party of this self-destructive bullshit."

Izzy bristled at the mention of yesterday's mini-breakdown. He didn't spell it out or anything, but she could read subtext. And she felt judged. "Nobody's forcing you to watch," she hissed back. The two of them stared at each other angrily for a while, unblinking, forgetting that they weren't alone. It was Curtis's voice that finally broke them out of the demented, overly emotional staring contest. Luckily he was too preoccupied with Alisha to notice anything. Simon and Kelly, though, they were a different story.

"Just because you're fucking bullet proof doesn't mean they are!" he said, gesturing angrily at Alisha and Simon. "I'm glad you got it all figured out," he continued, rounding on Alisha. "There's no way you're gettin' involved with this!"

"Uh, since when can you tell me what I can and can't do?" Alisha demanded, staring down Curtis.

"Since I care about whether you die or not!" Curtis shouted back. "Have you forgotten about that?"

"Okay, okay, come on, guys," Nathan said, trying to reason with them, which was pretty fucking ironic seeing as how unreasonable he was eighty percent of the time. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that we're lazy and incompetent. We're practically handicapped! Okay? Leave it to the police, they get paid to get shot!"

Curtis let out a surprised snort. "I never thought I'd say this, but he's talkin' sense!"

"Thank you! And hey! I'm already doin' my bit to fight crime!" He slapped a dripping paintbrush onto the wall. "Bosh!"

Izzy shook her head and exhaled sharply. Why didn't any of them get it? Well, Simon did and Alisha was going along with him now that she was future-Simon's snuggle bunny or whatever. That guy was still out there, driving around and wreaking havoc and he was still going to manage to fuck them over somehow. That was the way things went, wasn't it? Sure there were tons of people out there with powers, but the six of them seemed to be some sort of magnet, attracting as much shit as possible. They were still in trouble. Izzy could feel in her bones that they were still in trouble. If only she had direct access to somebody who knew what the fuck was going on….

After all the painting bullshit was over with, Izzy ran to the locker room to do a quick change in the locker room and scuttle out of the community center as quickly as possible, without the intention of saying goodbye to anyone. Not even to Nathan. It was partly because none of them could know where she was going, but if she was being honest there was another small part of her that just wanted to bail. This morning seemed like so fucking long ago, and things always fall apart, don't they? Isn't it better to get away with minimum possible damage? That day Izzy had told Alisha about her other superpower—about being able to tell when people were going to bolt—that wasn't just because of her experience with other people. It was because she recognized that own tendency in herself.

Izzy could feel the tension in her shoulders as she pulled the tank top on over her head. She hated what he had said to her in that underpass. She was pissed. She was more than pissed—she was livid. Izzy knew that she was a little bit crazy and Nathan knew that too, but the fact that he threw it in her face like that made her vibrate with rage. The weird thing was, if that had happened a week ago she probably would have brushed the comment off easily enough. She would have hurled back some insult and rolled her eyes, but now….Objectively she knew what she was doing—she was looking for excuses, for reasons to bail. It was something she always did, like an emotional escape hatch to get out of situations if things started getting too real. It wasn't something she wanted to do, but it had become reflexive. The closer you got to someone, the more it hurts when it falls apart. Izzy grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulder, stomping towards the door. Before she left, though, she caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror, staring into her own eyes. She looked so fucking damaged. It took a while, but she managed to wrench herself away and moved swiftly out of the community center.

When Izzy saw Curtis and Alisha wandering off in the direction of Alisha's flat, Izzy knew the coast was clear and jogged to that abandoned warehouse as quickly as possible. This time, when she swung open that set of double doors, she wasn't looking down an empty shaft with a fifty foot drop, but at an old-school elevator, sitting there with the door open like it was awaiting her with open arms. She stepped in and wrenched to elevator door shut, shivering at the grating sound of metal. When the thing started to move down, it shuddered violently, giving Izzy the distinct impression that she was being hazed before she was allowed entry to the bat cave. When the elevator finally came to a stop, Izzy opened the door to reveal Simon standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, shirtless.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Simon!" she groaned, gratefully stepping onto solid ground. "Put on your goddamn shirt. The reflection from your pasty skin is going to fucking blind me. It's like staring into the sun, and not it a good way."

Simon just laughed and walked over to a nearby chair, grabbing a faded orange sweatshirt and pulled it on, covering the abdominal muscles that Izzy would have never believed existed otherwise. "What brings you to my 'bat cave' as you've chosen to call it?" he asked, folding his arms again.

Izzy was about to reply when she was suddenly distracted by a giant wall of clocks and photos. It was creepy and fascinating all at once. The clocks, there were about a dozen of them, each of which had angry, red blinking letters. They all appeared to be counting down to something, but most of them, actually all but two, had already zeroed out. And the last one only had slightly over twenty hours left on it. It would hit zero some time next afternoon.

"So this is what?" she asked, gesturing at the wall. "Is it your timetable or something? But milk on Thursday, save Curtis from being suffocated to death by psycho doppelganger bitch Friday afternoon, that sort of shit?"

"Something like that, yes." There was a short silence as Izzy continued to pace up and down the wall of photos. There was one of each of them. Hell, there were dozens of each of them. And a few of Ollie, Tony, Gary, and probation worker Sally. It looked vaguely like a shrine, something a serial killer would but together while he stalked his victims. It was anybody else she would have run out of there screaming, but there really wasn't any logic in Simon killing her after saving her. "Why did you come?" Simon asked again.

"Right," Izzy said, waving her hand about absently, still inspecting the pictures. "What's with the mental guy whose LARPING Grand-Theft Auto? I know we're not through with him, and I want—I need to know what else happens. The others—Nathan—they seem to have the stupid idea that we're in the clear, and I think that's going to come back and bite us in the arse." She sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. "They don't listen," she said in a tired voice. "He never fucking listens. He's so good at talking that—"

"You know I can't tell you," Simon said sadly. "I can't run the risk of changing anything." Izzy could hear him walking towards her until he was standing at her shoulder. He reached out to the wall until his fingers found one picture in particular. Izzy squinted at it. On the photo she saw him and Alisha, in a tight embrace in front of a giant sign that read 'Welcome to Las Vegas!'.

Izzy let out a small laugh. "It really is all about her then. You bent the space-time continuum to get your girl. I can't decide if that's creepy or romantic. Maybe it's both." Izzy stared intently at the picture for a moment, a slight smile tugging at her lips. They just looked so fucking happy. And then her gaze was drawn by another photo—one the made her stomach clench.

Reaching forward, Izzy pulled the photo in question from the wall. Like the one Simon had been caressing so fondly it was in front of that same sign, but it wasn't Simon and Alisha in the photo. It was her and Nathan. She had clambered onto his back, legs around his waist and arms around his neck in a seriously uncoordinated piggy back ride, they both had massive grins on their faces and they were both flipping off the camera. They looked….happy. Actually, properly happy. It wasn't an expression Izzy had ever seen on her own face before.

"What the fuck is this?" she demanded, rounding on Simon. "When was this taken? Wha—"

"We go to Las Vegas together," Simon said simply. "The lot of us, after all this is over."

Izzy felt her jaw clench and she stared at the photo, unsure of what to do with this new information, and unconsciously shoved it into her jacket pocket. "What happened to you're blanket spoiler alert?" she demanded harshly. "You seem to be making up this shit as you go along."

"With a little help."

Izzy swore under her breath and scratched at the back of her neck. "The other day," she mumbled in a dazed sort of voice, "you said that you might need help with something. What were you talking about?"

Simon's face crumpled a bit, but he immediately recovered, instead putting forth that steely glare he seemed to have perfected over the years. "Yes," he said almost hesitantly. "I need you to go to Max's garage and get two cans of petrol. Then put them in that car park on the far side of the Estate next to the abandoned meat-packing warehouse."

Izzy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why can't you just do it?"

He blinked at her and shrugged his shoulders. "Because that's not what the journal says."

"Journal?" Izzy demanded, her frustration mounting. "What fucking journal? What are you talking about?"

Simon wandered over to one of the shelves and picked up a book, bound, black, with no title and some pretty little Celtic-ish design on the cover. It was worn, like it had been read over and over again. The pages had that sort of wrinkly quality to them, like they had been dropped in water, and the spine was thoroughly cracked. He waved it at her like she should know what she was looking at.

"What the fuck is this?" she demanded, gesturing at the thing.

Simon put on that mysterious smirk again—the one that kind of made her want to punch him in the face. "You wrote this," he said simply. "It's about us, everything that happened. The bits you were there for at least. It doesn't give exact dialogues or conversations or anything, but it's a bit of a guideline for everything that happened to you—to me. Both me's that is. After you left, when 'the time was right' and I knew what might be coming, you sent it to me."

Izzy shook her head frantically. "I've never seen that thing in my life. I don't know what that is."

"You will." Simon opened the book, not long enough for her to actually read anything, but long enough for her to recognize her own handwriting. When Simon saw the expression of shock on her face, his smile widened. "It's all wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff. I thought you understood that."

"There's a big difference between understanding and acceptance," she muttered under her breath. She gaped at the book a while longer and then something Simon said managed to sneak through her shock. "Wait, what do you mean 'after I left'?"

Simon raised his eyebrows at her. "Spoilers."

Izzy drove her hands into her hair and pulled slightly so that her scalp began to sting a bit. It was too much of a mindfuck. She hated not knowing things so as much as she liked and cared about Simon, this was her special brand of hell. She groaned and turned to the wall again, looking at the pictures and then at the clock, slowly ticking down. And then something occurred to her.

"What's that last clock counting down to?" Izzy was met with a deafening silence. Deafening silence and an expression that told her everything. "You never expected to live through any of this, did you?" she asked, her voice cracking a little. "You came back here knowing that you were going to die." The last sentence wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact. She knew it, he knew it, but neither of them said anything. "Shit," she finally muttered, wiping at her eyes that were beginning to well up a little bit.

All those pictures, all those clocks, all those apparently random cameos in their lives—they all added up to Simon dying. It was a strange thing for Izzy to comprehend. She was effectively witnessing one of the last moments of Simon's life, but tomorrow, next week, the week after that…he would still be there in all of his awkward glory. But at some point, not too far in the future, he would come back, and he would be signing his own death warrant. She stepped forwards and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. It occurred to her that this was actually the first time she had ever hugged Simon, the socially inept little brother or that badass pseudo-superhero. Jesus, it was the first hug for her and the last one for him. How fucked up was that? It wouldn't be the last, though, for her at least. She would make damn sure it wasn't the last.

"I won't tell," she whispered quietly. "I won't tell anyone."

When she finally released him, she marched straight for the elevator and slammed the rickety old door behind her. She could still see him through the slats of the metal door. He was staring at her seriously, and she wasn't quite sure what to do with that, so she just waved back. It was kind of pathetic really, the goodbye. There should be some sort of pomp and circumstance and drama to it, but really that goodbye was like death itself—reluctant and forced. There was a violent jerking movement as the elevator began to ascend, and Izzy took a deep, steadying breath, willing herself not to cry. She clenched her fists and anxiously shoved her hands into her pockets, only to feel a flimsy piece of paper inside. Pulling out the piece of paper, she stared down at that strangely happy of photo of her and Nathan.

Maybe things did last. Most good things in her life hadn't, Simon's happy ending certainly hadn't, but maybe some things did. Biting her lip and trying to contain herself, Izzy folded the picture in half and shoved it back into her pocket. She wiped at her eyes and forced herself into composure. She had things to follow through with, errands to perform, starting with picking up a few cans of petrol, a pineapple and pepperoni pizza, and a few beers.

**I hope the chapter went over well enough. Basically Izzy is freaked out about an actual relationship and looking for reasons to bail, and frankly Nathan's good enough at giving those. Anyways, she's working though her shit, and in the next chapter things will be better.**

**I think I like this chapter, but I approach it with a bit of trepidation. I'm really not sure how you guys will. Mostly I was trying to create some Nathan/Izzy drama and get Izzy into the bat cave. There's not much funny in it, but sometimes Misfits is just plain dramatic, so…..**

**Please review! Pretty, pretty please! I want to know how you think the story is progressing.**


	35. Blunt Force Trauma

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Lady Shagging Godiva, LittleGee, XxPookerxX, incitanemxx, Phaex, and Maddie for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is mostly a repost. When I published chapter 35 initially, it was just too long (almost 10,000 words, a bit cumbersome) so I decided to cut it in half. I added some more Nizzy (apparently they have a ship name!) banter and fleshed out some of the description in the ending part. I will be doing some restructuring of the second part and will hopefully post it later today, tomorrow at the latest.**

**Also, a special thanks to Phaex for the lovely review on my last version of chapter 35. A lot of this is the same, but hopefully I managed to interject enough to give it more life than the last version.**

Chapter 35 – Blunt Force Trauma

Make up sex. For the longest time when people rambled about it Izzy didn't think it was special enough to merit its own category, but now she could genuinely say she understood what all the fuss was about. Until last night, she had never really bothered with it. Whenever a relationship hit a speed bump, she would just bail—break up with them, fake her own death, that sort of thing. It was all capitalism really, seeing if the effort she put into salvaging a relationship was balanced by the possible future. There had never been a reason to put in the effort before, and as it turned out, makeup sex was a fairly painless way to go about it. Apparently working out relationship issues can be a hell of a lot fun when you're busy frantically ripping each other's clothes off between hungry, eager kisses. You get to work out your frustrations and there was the added bonus that you got to skip out on the whole 'talking things out' aspect of fighting. Actually, it was one of the very, _very _limited number of circumstances in which Nathan would shut the hell up. There really wasn't a down side.

That harsh, grey morning sunlight streamed through the window, hitting Izzy in the face and forcing her awake. Nathan was still asleep, snoring loudly with his now-familiar arm draped over waist. She slowly twisted around so that she was facing him and pushed herself up on one of her elbows, glancing at the alarm clock on the other side of the bed. It read 6: 52 a.m. Usually she would roll her eyes and curse under her breath, collapsing back on her pillow and sleeping for those precious eight minutes, but that morning her brain wasn't going to allow her to hit the snooze button.

Izzy gently gripped Nathan's fingers and lifted his arm, sliding out from under it and shoving a pillow in her place. It took all of three seconds for him to readjust, hugging the pillow tightly to him. Shivering slightly at the cold that met her, she grabbed Nathan's old hoodie and pulled it on over her tank top. Three over-nighters in a row…the two of them were getting dangerously close to cohabitation and that was a whole other can of worms. She glanced over at his still-sleeping form and felt a tiny pang on envy. She envied his peace of mind, she envied his ability to sleep, and she envied the fact that he didn't know the things that she knew.

It was her fault really. Izzy always had to know everything about everything—she always had to figure it out. It never occurred to her that she might not want to know until it was too late. Last night hadn't just been about the making up—it was mostly, but Izzy was also grateful for the distraction. In that moment with Nathan, she had gotten to forget it all—the death, the drama, everything—but now that she was awake and that moment was gone and she was suddenly acutely aware that that day Simon was going to die, and there wasn't a single fucking thing she could do about it.

So instead Izzy did what she always did: got up, made coffee, and emptied a glass of water over Nathan's head, smiling at the loud yelp he let out as he flailed around, entangling himself in the sheets.

"Aah!" he shouted girlishly. "I thought you were through with that shit!"

Izzy smirked and folded her arms across her chest, looming over him. "I'll be through with it when it stops being funny."

"It was never funny in the first place!"

"Well that's certainly a matter of opinion."

Nathan open and shut his eyes a few times, blinking against the light until his eyes adjusted. When his eyes fell on her, a slow, sloppy smile spread across his face. Izzy rolled her eyes at his 'naked lady' face. He was remembering last night. "You're wearin' my jacket," he drawled out sleepily, wiping at his eyes.

Izzy glanced down at the grey cloth covering her arms and shrugged her shoulders. "It appears that I am. Why, you want it back?"

His smile grew wider. "That depends on what's underneath it."

Izzy raised her eyebrows at him. "More than you'd like there to be."

He let out a childish whine and shook his head. "Keep it then." He clambered out of bed and stretched to the ceiling, yawning theatrically, but peeking down at her at the same time. "How come blokes' clothes always end up lookin' so much better on girls?" he asked, dropping his hands back to his sides.

"Easy," she replied shortly. "Boobs improve everything."

"Isn't that the truth."

Moving back to the kitchen area, she grabbed a few mugs and poured out two steaming cups of coffee, handing one to Nathan and cupping the other one so that the heat seeped into her hands, warming the joints. Nathan took a long, slurping sip from his and held it close to her face, staring at her over the rim. There was a look in his eye that she couldn't quite place, and it made her tense up a bit. "What?"

"Nothin'," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Last night was…."

"Hot," she filled in, waggling her eyebrows at him for a change.

"Yeah," he said through a laugh. "Yeah, it definitely was that. And it was….unexpected."

Izzy narrowed her eyes at him. "You're questioning the fact that you finally got your 'thank God we're alive shag'?" she asked, her voice colored by disbelief. "I thought that you'd be over the fucking moon."

"Oh, I went over the fuckin' moon," he replied quickly, his face breaking out into a more familiar smug smile. "You went there twice if I remember."

Izzy rolled her eyes heavily and sighed. "So what's the problem?"

He pursed his lips and blew out a heavy breath. "I guess I'm just wonderin' why it happened. One minute you're all pissed at me and hostile and shit and the next you're shovin' your hand down my trousers."

Izzy let out a spluttering cough, spraying coffee everywhere. "I did _not _stick my hand down your trousers. Inviting you back to mine for pizza and beer and a football game is not the same thing as sticking my hand down your trousers."

"Well then it's a classic example of 'he said she said'," Nathan replied raising his eyebrows. "You're word's just as good as mine. The kids'll never be sure who to believe."

Izzy let out a loud scoff. "Sure," she bit back sarcastically.

"Hey, it's not like I'm complainin'," he continued through a smirk. "You throwin' yourself at me all desperate-like is a bit of a turn on. And if I were you I couldn't keep my hands off me either."

"You sleep with a wank sock," Izzy replied drily. "You _can't_ keep your hands off yourself."

"Well that just proves my point, doesn't it?"

"Not really, no."

The two of them sat there in silence for a moment drinking their coffee. Nathan was still staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. Jesus fucking Christ, did he want to have the talk? _The _talk—the 'define the relationship' talk. The way he was looking at her…holy shit, he did. She thought the two of them were on the same page with the whole emotional stuntedness aspect of their personalities, but that unasked question was hovering between them like a cloud of tear gas that she really didn't want to walk through.

Personally Izzy was a fan of ignoring things and letting them work themselves out. They were whatever the hell they were—why did they have to talk about it? What would she even call it? 'Casual monogamy'? 'Figuring it out'? 'Dating' just sounded too lame, and then there was the fact that they had never technically been on a date. Fuck. They were more than friends with benefits but less than boyfriend and girlfriend. Was there a name for that? If not, there should be. Son of a bitch. Who would have thought that out of the two of them, she was the one with the fear of commitment?

Clearing her throat, Izzy put her mug back on the table. "We should get ready or we'll be late," she said quickly, pushing herself off the wall and grabbing her shower caddy and towel before moving to the door. She paused at the door frame and looked back at Nathan over her shoulder. "Are you coming or not?"

The slight frown that was pulling at his lips morphed into a giant shit-eating grin, and she grinned back. Nathan practically face-planted on the floor scrambling after her. She probably would have said something snarky or sarcastic, but before she could she found herself being thrown over his shoulder and carried off down the hallway, giggling as he galloped away and grateful that nobody else was up at that hour. Why bother defining the relationship? She was just fine with what they had. As long as it made you happy, what did labels matter?

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Spending time with Nathan that night/morning was like a vacation from reality. She had been light, happy even, and when she looked at her own reflection it seemed to be getting closer and closer to that one she saw in that picture, which she was now hiding in an old book of hers. He had proved himself to be a good alternative to wallowing in worry and speculation. But when the two of them finally managed to stumble out of her flat, she still couldn't shake the feeling that there was a shoe about to drop. And as soon as the two of them got to the community center, it smacked her right in the forehead. There had to be some sort of negative aura surrounding the community center. Seven minutes. All it took was seven minutes for everything to go to complete, utter shit.

By the time they got to the community center, Curtis and Simon were already there waiting for the day to begin. Izzy seized up a bit, seeing as certain conclusions could be drawn from her and Nathan both showing up at the same time, both with still slightly wet hair. Curtis was far too wrapped up in his own shit, but Simon eyed them suspiciously. If he didn't know what was going on with the two of them by now he wasn't nearly as clever as she thought he was, but whether he knew or not, he stayed silent. Izzy and Nathan headed to the locker room and changed quickly and then went back to rejoin the other two, Nathan making a beeline for one of the vending machines to which he proceeded to do violence. Izzy just sighed and leaned against the wall, wracking her brains speculating what kind of disaster they would in for today.

"The bloke who shot the new guy," Curtis said suddenly, forcing them all to look at him, "he was on the Estate again last night. He's still looking for this Conti."

Izzy let out a bitter snort and shook her head. "Well don't we just get all the luck," she muttered darkly. "We're not done with that guy, mark my words."

"He thinks I'm Conti," Simon mumbled, somewhere between pissed off and worried and shooting a glare at Nathan.

There was a pause in the constant rattling noise as Nathan turned away from the vending machine. "Why does he think that?" Nathan asked curioustly.

Simon gaped at him a bit and shook his head in disbelief. "Because you told him I was!"

Nathan squinted at him curiously. "Did I?" he asked in a dumbfounded voice that made Izzy roll her eyes. "Sorry, man." He turned back to the machine and shook it a few more times before huffing angrily and spinning around, holding his hand out to Simon.

Simon blinked at him in disbelief. "You want me to by you a drink?"

"I have never paid for a drink from this machine and I don't intend to start now."

"Ugh, somebody just give him the money," Izzy groaned in frustration. "Otherwise he's just going to stick gum in somebody's hair."

Simon looked between Nathan and Izzy a few times before finally shoving some money in Nathan's hand, to which Izzy mouthed a silent 'thank you' before slapping Nathan over the head. Nathan wheeled around with his mouth wide open, no doubt about to say something rude, but Izzy's gaze quickly shifted to the door behind him. Alisha burst through it, out of breath and marching towards them with a sense of purpose that just seemed so unlike her. She ignored Nathan's rant about the newly functional vending machine and took a few steps forward. It looked like that shoe she was worried about was headed on a collision course. They needed to brace for impact.

"Alisha?" she asked worriedly. "What's happened?"

"The guy with the red car and the gun," she said breathlessly.

"Yeah, we were just talkin' about him," Nathan interrupted casually.

"He's got Kelly!"

Shit. Oh, shit. Holy fucking shit. Izzy wanted to say 'I told you so' but she technically hadn't said a damn thing, so she couldn't even have that small nugget of satisfaction. When Izzy looked around at the others, they had the same slack-jawed, freaked-out expression. Nathan was the first one to speak. Whether or not it was productive…well that was a different matter.

"Oh, Jesus, he's gonna shoot her!" he shouted anxiously. "And he's gonna kill her! I told you he was dangerous! Alright, everybody calm down! Just think. Think and keep calm." Then his eyes fell on Simon, and he rushed at him, grabbing his collar. "Do something you little freak!"

"Let him go!" Izzy hissed, grabbing Nathan's arm and pulling him back. "Cutting off the oxygen to his brain isn't exactly going to help with the thinking."

"CONTI!"

The voice echoed through the hallway of the community center. The five of them froze, eyes darting back and forth.

"He's here," Curtis whispered.

"Fuck, Curtis!" Izzy hissed back. "Are you trying to get us all killed? In films it's when people say shit like that that the statue in the corner of the room turns out not to be a statue but a serial killer that can stand really, really still!"

"Well I don't see any fuckin' statues lyin' around the community center," he spat back.

"That's not the poin—"

"Will the two of you shut up," Alisha whispered harshly.

All jaws snapped shut and Izzy tried to open her ears or whatever, listening hard for any indication of an impending doom. The silence was starting sound really, really loud until something else broke through that wall of nothing. Izzy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Does anybody else hear music?"

It was definitely music. A repetitive, electronic beat that sounded vaguely familiar. The five of them silently stepped forwards, peering around every corner and jumping at every shadow as they navigated the hallways. As the sound grew louder, the beat began to sound vaguely familiar. Izzy was never really one for video games, but Allan had been and she could swear…yup, it definitely was. It was fucking 'Grand Theft Auto'. Before she had the chance to share that little morsel of information, there was the sound of a woman's scream.

"Oh, Jesus, he's kickin' the shit out of her!" Nathan cried out as they rushed towards the noise. They collided with the door and almost tumbled through, only to find a TV hooked up to an Xbox. It took about two seconds for everything to fall into place. The players was beating the shit out of another on-screen character, shouting for Conti and demanding his money back. Deja fucking vu.

Simon stepped forwards and picked the disc cover up off the table, examining it carefully. "He's living the game," Simon said in a quiet, dramatic voice. Great. He could follow his own logic.

"Where did this come from?" Curtis asked.

"It was the guy in the mask," Alisha said, losing some of her earlier anxiety.

Nathan, the considerate bloke that he was, plopped down in front of the telly, grabbed hold of the controller, and began to play, shouting obscenities at the screen as he proceeded to destroy as much CGI shit as possible.

"His name is Jimmy Sisca," Simon said, reading the description on the back of the cover. "He spent ten years in prison for armed robbery. His lover and his former crime boss….Conti….double-crossed him on his wedding day."

"Hey, watch me run over this fat bloke," Nathan said eagerly, earning another smack over the head. She sighed and turned back to the others.

"So he's living the game, yeah?" she said, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Okay, so these things…they work in levels, right? Each level has a goal, an endgame. So what's the endgame?"

Simon's jaw clenched and he looked at her seriously. "We need to play the game for real. If we give him the money he asked for when he shot Ollie, I think he'll let Kelly go."

Izzy exhaled sharply and shook her head. "Great, now we know what to do. All we have to figure out is how the fuck we do it."

Alisha let out an insecure snort. "Right, so all we need is a hundred grand."

They all fell silent so that the only sound were the squeals of the poor fat bastards Nathan kept running over.

"We could rob a bank," Simon suggested hesitantly.

"We'd need a car," Curtis mumbled.

"Yeah," Nathan said loudly, seizing onto the course of the conversation and nodding enthusiastically in agreement. "Yeah, let's rob a bank."

"What's that?" a voice said from behind them.

The six of them spun around to see the probation worker leaning against the door frame, smacking his gum as usual.

"Nothing," Simon said quickly, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Jesus he had a lot to learn. Worst poker face ever. The probation just raised his eyebrows at him. "Well that's funny, isn't it?" the probation worker drawled with his usual level of disinterest. " 'Cause to me it sounded like your plannin' on robbin' a bank."

"No, no, no," Nathan said slowly, no doubt mentally scrambling for some bullshit story to cover them. "I said...er...let's have a big wank. Communal masturbation," he continued, gesturing a circle with his hands. "The old circle jerk."

The probation worker stared at him with that same blank look. "Go on and clean my car," he said in that same old matter-of-fact tone, letting his keys drop from his hand, dangling them from a finger.

Wait a second, was he facilitating their robbery? Or was he just a lazy dick who didn't want to bother with proper car upkeep? Izzy narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for some sort of tell to betray his intentions, and….nothing. She couldn't tell a single fucking thing. The man could be a serial killer or volunteer to build houses for homeless and she wouldn't be able to tell either way.

"I don't think cleanin' your car was what they had in mind when they gave us community service," Nathan shot back more hostilely than Izzy would have expected.

"Well I'm a member of the community," the probation worker replied, "and my car needs cleaning. And I don't give a shit."

Nathan looked around at the rest of them, expecting them to back him up. Was he really so dense that he didn't see the massive break that was falling into her lap? The rest of them looked between each other, trying hard not to appear to be relieved or excited. Nathan on the other hand appeared to get more and more frustrated with their apparent tranquility.

"The man wants his car washed," Curtis said slowly, nodding and trying to make Nathan catch on. Nothing. Now it was Alisha's turn. "He's giving us his keys, so we can clean his car," she said trying to spell it out for him. Izzy looked at him with wide eyes and nodded slightly, hoping that telepathic communication could work. Again, nothing. Curtis swore loudly and grabbed the keys from the probation worker, the rest of them filing out behind him, with Izzy walking next to Nathan and feeling very grateful that stupid wasn't contagious.

They made there way to the car park and Curtis, Alisha, Simon, and Nathan all piled in. Alisha left the back door open, waving at Izzy to join them, but Izzy shook her head. "You guys go on and do your thing. I'm going to go to the meeting spot and check things out, you know? Scope out the place and that kind of shit."

Alisha shook her head. "You've got to come with us," she urged. "What if the guy shows up again?"

Izzy shrugged. "I'm bullet proof, remember? Anyways, somebody needs to stay behind, make sure shit doesn't hit the fan. Again. Anybody else got a problem?"

Nathan opened his mouth to say something, but she glowered at him making it snap shut again. Otherwise she was met by dead silence and Alisha hesitantly shut the door. Izzy gave her a reassuring nod, slapping her hand on the back of the car to see them off before turning back and heading towards the community center. "Oh, we're stealin' his car," she heard Nathan say in a tone of realization, making her laugh and shake her head.

Izzy didn't go straight to the meeting spot like she said she would. She went to her locker first because sitting at the bottom was that can of petrol she had nicked from Max's garage. Hauling it was going to be a pain in the arse—the thing was fucking heavy—but she had made a promise and she was going to follow through. The cold metal dug into the skin of her fingers and she could feel the sting of blisters beginning to form as she hauled it, and as she moved towards Simon's drop point, a cold wave of realization hit her.

They were right next to each other—where she was supposed to leave the petrol and where they were supposed to take the money. That fucking lunatic was keeping Kelly in an old, abandoned meatpacking warehouse, the petrol was supposed to be placed in the car park right next to it. Yup, that clinched it. Simon was going on a suicide mission. And she was fucking helping him.

Passing by the warehouse, she couldn't help but peek in. She had to see if Kelly was alright—if she was still alive. Putting down the can of petrol, she quietly stole towards one of the windows. They were set high in the wall, so she curled her fingers over the concrete windowsill and pulled herself up so she could peer through the dirt-covered window. Kelly and the mental guy were sitting at a table in the middle of the room, a bottle of wine between them. He had kidnapped her for a fucking tea party? Kelly's face was covered in blood and there was a gash across her nose, but otherwise she appeared to be alright. Other than the fact that she was wearing a fucking ridiculous poofy white dress.

The guy's eyes scanned the room, roving in her direction making Izzy quickly release the windowsill and drop back to the ground. She pressed herself against the wall and froze. She listened as heavy footsteps approached the window and stopped just on the other side of the wall. Izzy held her breath as she glanced up at the window above her. She could see his shadow cast across the glass. He was scanning the area, looking for any other activity. Izzy quietly pushed herself closer to the wall, moving herself out of his line of sight. It felt like an eternity that she sat there, but eventually that shadow in the window disappeared and she heard the sound of footsteps moving away.

Scrambling up from the ground, Izzy grabbed the can and setting off again. Two hundred more meters, one hundred more meters—fuck that can was heavy. By the time she got it in place she was panting heavily from the effort and beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. She stayed there, crouched down next to the can, and wiped at the sweat and looking at the thing. What was it for? What purpose did it serve? Izzy sighed and rubbed at her eyes. The others should be there soon. She needed it to be over.

Then all of the sudden a shadow appeared against the wall in front of her, and before her brain even registered the fact that there was someone hiding behind her, a heavy object connected with the back of her skull, giving rise to a loud, sickening crack.

Izzy tumbled forwards, collapsing onto her stomach as pain radiated out from that point at the back of her skull. She moved her hand to that point, and when she pulled it back it was covered in wet, sticky blood. Groaning heavily, she rolled onto her back and somebody stepped into her plane of vision. The figure was fuzzy, but as it came closer she was able to focus more. By the time that boot landed on her chest, pushing her to the ground, she could tell that it was that video game guy. He leaned in close, his face inches from hers, and cocked his head to the side in a strangely robotic way. He studied her face carefully, like he was trying to integrate this new information into his programming.

"Who are you?" he asked dully.

"I'm the fucking Dalai Llama," she bit back, trying to ignore the light-headed, dizzy feeling that was beginning to engulf her.

Izzy grabbed hold of the boot and tried to push it away, but her strength was fading. Her energy was being sapped as the pressure under her skin began to build. She gave into that exploding sensation and the guy was thrown backwards, falling out of sight. Izzy tried to push herself up on her elbows, but the buckled under the weight of her own body. She felt so...heavy. Her head was swimming and spots were encroaching in upon her vision until they all merged into a wall of black. Her last thought before passing out was those clocks on Simon's wall, ticking down to zero.

**Please review.**

**Also, I've also taken up a hobby making youtube videos. For anyone who watched the show 'Community' I made a vid to the song 'Radioactive' by Imagine Dragons. I would really appreciate it if you checked it out and told me what you think.**

**Here's the link: youtube watch?v=i4JZgUuy6G8**

**Oh, and the 'boobs improve everything' line is a reference to the sitcom 'Go On'. If you haven't started watching it yet, you should.  
**


	36. Level Up

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to LittleGee and TARDISbluecolor for reviewing**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this is part 2 of what was initially chapter 35. Some of it is the same, especially near the beginning, but the end is TOTALLY different. Hopefully you like it and I've gotten out of my writing rut.**

**P.S. TARDISbluecolor, thank you so much for your lovely review! I'm really glad you like the story and hope I continue to do justice to comments like yours.**

Chapter 36 – Level Up

Fuzzy. She felt fuzzy. And there was a sort of ringing in her ears as well as a sharp pain radiating from the back of her skull. All of the sudden all those cartoons where the birds fly around your head made a sort of sense. Izzy had always hated those birds, even when she was a kid. Where did they come from? Where did they go afterwards? It was probably stupid for an eight-year-old to question the logic of cartoon, head-trauma-induced birds, but that was type of kid she was—the type who found out Santa Claus wasn't real far too early and ended up ruining it for the rest of the class.

The ringing in her ears just wouldn't go away, and it began to sound vaguely familiar. It was the 'Doctor Who' theme song blasting from the phone she had lodged in her back pocket. Gradually, that fog surrounding her brain began to dissipate, and her mind began to regain some degree of clarity. Pieces of disjointed memory began to slide back into place, like a jigsaw puzzle about to be solved. Once it all came together, Izzy was left with an image she didn't quite care for.

Fuck, she had been kidnapped—she had been kidnapped and she had a concussion. Why hadn't her power worked? She it had worked all those times before—except when something was fucking with it. Maybe it was because she hadn't realized that he was there, that in that particular moment she hadn't felt threatened. Great, now she was in the same boat as Curtis—the whole 'it doesn't work like that' situation. Well at least she would only be getting herself killed with this nonfunctional power bullshit. Why did the bastard have to be so fucking sneaky?

Izzy blinked slowly, opening her eyes and readjusting to the light as it stabbed at her eyes. Wincing at the cold sting, she force her eyes open to take in the scene. She was in that meatpacking warehouse, but the guy hadn't decided to stage another fucking tea party like he did with Kelly. No, she was strung up from the ceiling like a slab of meat, her arms aching under her own weight.

"Are you fockin' awake yet?" an angry voice said from somewhere on her left. "Ya nap longa than my gran."

Izzy didn't recognize the voice. Everything still sounded so strange to her. Groaning loudly, she lifted her head, which felt heavier than usual, and looked in the voice's direction. Kelly was hanging there was well, still dressed in that ridiculous wedding dress. Izzy shot her a weak smile. "Kelly, you look absolutely beautiful," she managed to rasp out. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've gotten you an engagement present if only I'd known. You were registered for a blender, right?"

Kelly glowered at her. "Shut op!"

"You're glowing, really," Izzy said, laughing lightly. "It must have been quite the whirlwind romance. I can't believe that you didn't invite me. Friends should be there for such big life transitions."

If Izzy was hung any closer, Kelly probably would have tried to some sort of bodily harm to her. Even now she was kicking her legs a bit in frustration. "When we get out o' this I'm gonna batta ya!"

"You look like a meringue if it was attacked by like a shitload of shaving cream."

"I said shut op!"

"You look like you're auditioning to be a sugar plum fairy in the local ballet."

"I swear I'm gonna—"

"Say bibbidi-bobbidi-boo five times fast."

"Are ya done yet?" Kelly shouted angrily.

"Almost," Izzy shot back he smile growing. "I was going to so this whole bit about seeing the bride before her wedding….I've got a few more jokes in my pocket."

"Well then just leave 'em there, yeah?" Kelly growled angrily. "Stop bein' such a dickhead."

"Being a dickhead is kind of a preexisting condition for me."

Izzy sighed and swung her feet back and forth a bit. It was a strangely surreal feeling, not being able to touch the ground. She almost wanted to be unconscious again. At least that way her arms wouldn't hurt so fucking much. And then there was her head. She could feel the blood beginning to crust over and crack as she her neck twisted. "Where is the prick?" she asked bitterly. "He fucked up my hair."

" 'E's outside in 'is car. 'E's got all sorts of shit in that fing. One second 'e's pullin' out another gun, the next 'e's got this fockin' wedding dress. I fink I saw some goddamn nunchucks in there." Kelly started shouting obscenities at the empty warehouse before letting out a yell of frustration and turning back to Izzy. "Are the othas awright?"

Izzy tried to shrug in response, but the searing pain in her shoulders reminded her that that wasn't exactly possible at the moment. "As far as I know. They're robbing a bank so they can give him the money he wants. Hopefully after that he'll just…let us go." Izzy blew out a long breath and glanced around, looking for any possible escape route. There wasn't one. "This is nice," she said suddenly in a light, sarcastic voice. "The two of us haven't gotten to hang out for a while now. Get it? Hang ou—"

"Yeah, I fockin' got it."

There was a loud banging noise at the other side of the warehouse—the sound of a door slamming. Izzy felt a fleeting moment of hope that was dashed as soon as it appeared. The mental guy walked quickly and quietly towards them, that same gun still in his hand. Izzy could see a bit of blood staining the handle—her blood. The dick had pistol-whipped her.

"You're friends are here," he said in that same, monotone voice of his. "They better have my money, or your brains will be painted over the walls."

"Who wrote the dialogue for this video game," she muttered to Kelly. "It's seriously clichéd."

Kelly huffed loudly and shook her head derisively. "If we bof live through dis, I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya."

"No you won't," Izzy grumbled back. "I'm fucking delightful."

About a minute later the door opened again, and Simon, Curtis, Alisha, and Nathan all slowly walked in. Simon had something in his hand—a metal briefcase or something. Holy shit, they had done it. They had actually robbed a bank. Successfully. The level of competence they were displaying was actually a bit frightening. That is, until they all walked off in the wrong direction. Izzy's eyes closed involuntarily when she heard the guy cock the gun.

"You better have my money, Conti," he said in a deadened tone.

The others slowly turned around to face them. When Nathan's eyes fell on Izzy his jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he seemed to lapse into an uncoordinated panic. "Jesus, Izzy are you alright?" he shouted anxiously, rounding on the others before he got a response. "What did I tell you? I said if she wasn't answerin' her phone somethin' must have happened! I knew we shouldn't have let her go off on her own like that. But, nooooooo—"

"I'm fine!" Izzy shouted, trying to break him out of the spiral he seemed to be headed down. "Seriously, I'm good. Let's just get this shit over with so we can all go home. How does that sound?"

"Me arms are fockin' killin' me in case anybody gives a shit," Kelly spat bitterly.

"Slide it over," video game guy insisted, still staring daggers at Simon. Nodding, Simon placed the case on the floor and crouched down next to it, giving it a hard push. It only went about a third of the distance. Looking sheepish, Simon moved forwards and gave it another push. Again, it only went about a third of the way. Jesus, it was like she was watching a fucking terrible parody of 'The Godfather' or something. It was fucking embarrassing.

Finally Simon just picked up the case and closed the distance between him and the video game guy, popping the thing open and revealing the money. Then the guy's head sagged and his shoulders drooped, like he was a robot powering down. Izzy let out an internal scream of victory. That had to be it, right? The bloke had completed his mission, it was over. But then, after a few moments, the shoulders straightened and the head lifted again. Fuck. The guy had fucking rebooted.

"Is it true?" he asked out of nowhere.

Simon, who was still crouched near the money, far, far too close to the guy, blinked in incomprehension. "Is what true?" he asked stupidly.

"You know what I'm talkin' about. Don't play games with me, Conti."

"Well isn't that fucking ironic," Izzy muttered, snorting a little too loudly given the circumstance.

"Ugh, he talks dis bollocks all the time!" Kelly shouted in frustration.

"Fat Tony says you've got an undercover cop in your organization," the guy continued.

"See that's why I don't play computer games," Nathan hissed loudly. "Because they never bloody end!"

The guy took a few steps forward, looming over Simon whose face morphed into a mask of fear. "Who's the cop?" he demanded coldly.

Simon swallowed so heavily Izzy could see his Adam's apple bobbing from half-way across the room. "Noone?" he replied, his voice sounding more like a question than a statement.

Without another word the guy raised his hand and struck Simon across the head with the butt of his gun, as she assumed he had done to her, causing him to crumple to the ground. Izzy squeezed her eyes shut and winced. Now she got to witness what happened to her.

Inside of five minutes the rest of them were strung up next to her and Kelly, hands bound and feet dangling. The bloke stared up at them. "I'm goin' to my car to get a chainsaw…and when I get back you're goin' to tell me which one of you is the undercover cop." Then he swung his head around and marched out the door.

"Nice one!" Kelly growled angrily. "Brilliant fockin' rescue!"

"No chance of a rewind, then?" Nathan asked, leaning forwards and staring in Curtis's direction. "Get your boyfriend to sort it out!" he shouted at Alisha.

"Uh, he's not my boyfriend," Alisha spat back.

"We split up," Curtis added angrily.

"Huh," Nathan said thoughtfully, eyeing Alisha. "So you're available then?"

"Not to you!"

"Hey, I wasn't askin' for me!" Nathan replied, sounding mildly offended. "I've got other options! Better, more flexible options!"

"Wot da fock do ya mean 'more flexible'!" Kelly shouted loudly.

Izzy stared straight in front of her, determined to stay out of that particular conversation. Now they really needed an escape route. She hadn't looked too hard earlier seeing as they had a plan already, but now that that was all shot to shit, they needed options.

"Where's that prick in the mask when you need him!?" Curtis snapped in frustration. Izzy was beginning to think much the same thing when her thoughts were interrupted by a loud grunting noise. She leaned forwards to see Nathan thrashing about like epileptic shark, trying to flip himself off of the hook and swore under her breath. If that was the best they could come up with, they were all fucked.

Izzy was just beginning to write her own eulogy in her head when suddenly—out of thin air—someone else appeared. It was that girl from the flat they broke into a few weeks ago. She turned around slowly and saw them, her eyes widening in confusion.

"Why are you all hanging from meathooks?" she asked incredulously.

"To improve our fucking circulation," Izzy shot back sarcastically. The girl glared at her for a second before turning to Curtis, who she had apparently become rather familiar with.

He made a face and probably would have shrugged his shoulders if he had proper use of his arms. "This is some of the weird shit I was tellin' you about."

"Isn' dat the girl whose flat we broke into?" Kelly whispered, making Nathan wrinkle his nose guiltily.

"The new guy's heart got transplanted into her," Curtis explained. "She's got his power now."

"I didn't know this sort of shit was transferable," Izzy mumbled.

"I guess it makes sense," Nathan mused.

His voice attracted the girl's attention, and her expression which had pretty much been characterized by confusion morphed into one of boiling rage. "You!" she growled angrily, moving towards him.

"Hi!" he said, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry about…er…you know…"

"Shitting in my bed?" she supplied, practically spitting in anger.

"Yeah," he said smugly. "Wrong flat."

Izzy groaned and rolled her eyes. "While this little reunion is all heart-warming and shit, I think we should sort out our fucking priorities here."

The girl blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"

"I think you're supposed to rescue us!" Simon said urgently, having apparently regained consciousness.

The girl nodded and rushed over to the chains, yanking at them. She wasn't quick enough, though. Before she could find the right one, the sound of the door opening rang throughout the warehouse.

"Get out," Curtis hissed, jerking his head to indicate that she should leave.

"I can't just do it whenever I want!" she said defensively.

Izzy could practically hear the collective eye roll. "Right," Nathan drawled out sarcastically. "That would be way too convenient and useful."

The mental guy marched towards them, chainsaw in one hand and gun in the other. When he saw the new girl, he paused for a moment, head twitching a bit like he had glitchy software. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The new girl stared down the barrel of the gun he was holding and let out a shaky breath. "That's complicated," she murmured. Within minutes her hands were bound and she was being fit with her own personalized meat hook. Did that mean she was part of the gang now? This hazing ritual was certainly fucked up enough for it.

"You need to tell him you're the undercover cop!" Simon whispered suddenly, looking at Nathan. "If he kills you it doesn't matter!"

A pained expression crossed Nathan's face. "That's easy for you to say! You're not the one who has to be dismembered with a chainsaw!"

Izzy bit her lip and stared down at the mental guy, who was hooking the new girl's hands to a chain and beginning to hoist her up next to them. Fuck. She had to do something. Time to nut up or shut up.

"I'll do it," she said with determination. "I'll tell him I'm the undercover cop."

Nathan's head snapped around to look at her. "Are you fuckin' serious? Why would you do that?"

"I've got the best power for it," she said nodding as she worked out her thought process. "He comes at me, I blast him, grab his gun—done and sorted."

Nathan let out a disbelieving scoff and shook his head. "Yeah, 'cause your power worked so well first time around."

"I wasn't expecting him then," she whispered urgently. "The force field didn't help because I didn't know he was there—I didn't feel threatened. Now I feel pretty fucking threatened. And how do you think you'll manage it? We don't know if you'll be able to reassemble all your appendages and shit if he hacks you to bits. You're not a salamander, Nathan. All those bits might not necessarilygrow back."

It seemed like a fair enough plan—the prick would get his comeuppance and nobody gets sawed to pieces—but Nathan didn't seem all that satisfied with the reasoning. His jaw twitched and he shook his head. "Nah, man. I know how fond you are of all my lovely appendages but there's no way I'm lettin' my girlfriend sign herself up to get shot at."

Izzy felt her muscles clench as a sudden blanket of silence fell over all of them. He had called her his girlfriend. It was the first time either of them had called each other anything, actually. Curtis, who was busy apologizing to new girl, whipped his head around and gaped at them. "Girlfriend? What the fuck—the two of you are together now? How the fuck did that work out?"

"I fockin' knew it," Kelly said, a weird element of smug self-satisfaction in her voice.

Alisha didn't say anything at all. She just looked at Izzy like she had lost her mind.

"Is it true?" Simon asked in a quiet prodding voice.

Shit. This is just what she wanted to avoid—all the questions and expectations and theories. As soon as people know about relationships, that's when they become real. As long as they're quiet they can stay in that sort of 'trial run' category where you get to figure things out, but when other people find out you're put into this box where they impose they're rules….you have to define the relationship. And of course it was happening at the most fucking inconvenient time possible. A wave of terror shot through Izzy, but then she glanced over at Nathan and it evaporated. He stared back at her somewhere between apologetic and completely insecure. Izzy looked at him and thought about that picture she had found, and then she felt something she had never felt before in the whole of her life: certainty.

"Yeah," she said loudly. "Nathan's my boyfriend. We're involved, together…whatever the fuck you want to call it. Except 'dating'—that sounds too fucking lame. And we're really fucking happy about it so if I hear any shit from any of you, I will kick your arse so hard it'll end up looking like cottage cheese. Do any of you have a problem with that?" She glanced over at Nathan, who was looking a bit smug and rolled her eyes. "So now that you lot have become acquainted with my sex life, can we focus on the task at hand? Because unless you've forgotten one of us is about to be dismembered."

As if on cue, the engine of the chainsaw roared to life, reminding them all that there was a very clear and present threat. Not that there was really anything they could do about it. The guy walked up to Alisha, hauling her off the hook. All of them began pleading with him, begging him to stop.

"Leave her alone!" Izzy shouted. "It's m—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Nathan said, that pained look returning. "It's me. I'm the undercover cop. So fire up the chainsaw and get with the sawin', and I'd appreciate it if you did it quickly and cleanly an—"

The guy glanced over at Nathan, taking in his 'confession', but Curtis had other ideas. He kicked the guy hard in the face, shouting for Alisha to run. She took off, sprinting out of the room. It didn't take long for the guy to recover his senses and stride out after her, gun raised.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Izzy demanded, panicking.

"I was savin' her life!" Curtis shouted back.

"How! How the fuck did you save her? He's still after her and he's still got a gun. We're still stuck up here and can't do a fucking thing about it if he catches her!" Izzy took a deep breath and fell silent. She knew Curtis was trying to help, but all he had managed to do was royally fuck everything up. And she was stuck hanging there, powerless, and left with the knowledge that Alisha was running right in the direction of that fucking can of petrol.

She came back though. About fifteen minutes Alisha appeared through that same door with a tear-stained face and story that sounded to Izzy like total bullshit. Her face had an expression on it—one that looked like resignation. And she smelled like petrol. And smoke.

Soon enough they were all free, their feet back on the ground. The lot of them walked out of the warehouse and piled into the car. They still had to get the fucking thing cleaned. None of them said much when they drove to the hospital to drop off Kelly or while they scrubbed down the car. Eventually, they pulled the car back into the lot at the community center, made there way to the locker room, and got changed.

Once in the locker room, there probably should have been a moment where they reflected on the seriousness of what they had all been through, about how close they had been to death, but there wasn't. The ASBO shitheads were never really known for self-examination, after all. Curtis wandered off with that girl Nikki, leaving Izzy with a good look at his patented 'sexy face' and Simon gave them an awkward wave goodbye and went back to his.

Other than her and Nathan, Alisha was the last to leave. Izzy caught her watching Simon leave in the mirror while she was pretending to apply mascara. There was a flicker of longing in her eyes, one you wouldn't be able to pick up on if you weren't looking for it. After the door closed behind Simon, Alisha's eyes shifted and ended up looking at Izzy. The vulnerability that had been there hardened suddenly as she reached into her back. Applying a few swipes of lip gloss, she grabbed the rest of her belongings from her locker and stormed out. Izzy felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. Alisha would be grieving alone. They both would.

Izzy squeezed her eyes shut and fell back against the lockers, letting out a long breath. One thing was for sure. She would be needing a fucking drink. And she would be toasting to Simon, that stupid bastard. How much time did her Simon have left before he martyred himself for their cause? And why had he picked such a pathetic cause?

"So I'm your boyfriend, huh?" a voice demanded, interrupting her wallowing. She opened her eyes to see Nathan leaning a shoulder against the lockers a few meters away, a hand planted firmly on his hip and a smug smile covering his face.

Rolling her eyes, Izzy shifted so that she was facing him. "Only by the transitive property," she replied drily. "You said I was your girlfriend before I admitted to that degree of emotional intimacy."

"Yeah, but you agreed with me," he shot back.

"It seems that I did."

For a moment that overly confident grin faltered. "You know, there was a second there I wasn't sure you were goin' to."

Izzy cleared her throat slightly and her eyes glanced guiltily towards her feet. "I wasn't sure I was going to either when it came down to it," she admitted. "But I did. And I'm glad I did. I mean who could pass up on all of that," she said, gesturing up and down his body. "I would have to be fucking crazy."

Nathan let out a light laugh, tinged with a bit of relief, and nodded. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her suspiciously. "So how are we gonna do this?" he said gesturing between them. "The whole 'boyfriend-girlfriend' thing."

"How do you think we're going to?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as well.

He pushed himself off the lockers and shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a few swaggering steps forward until he was standing directly in front of her. "Well," he said lightly, pursing his lips in mock thought, "the way I see it, you'll cook me food and do my laundry and all that borin' shit, and then you'll get to have sex with me."

Izzy snorted loudly. "I think you've got that the wrong way around, mate. You get to have sex with me. I'm the Gatekeeper."

"And I'm the fuckin' Keymaster," he shot back. "What difference does it make?"

"The Gatekeeper can change the locks."

Nathan gave her a bewildered look and then shook his head violently, sending his curls flying all over the place. "Nah, man. My body is a temple, and _I _am letting _you_ worship at my altar and in return I get all that other stuff. And by altar of course I mean—"

"Nope," Izzy cut him off loudly, furrowing her eyebrows in contemplation while looking him up and down. "I'm still not really seeing what I get out of it."

Nathan scoffed, sounding very offended. "You'll get all of this," he shot back gesturing at himself.

"I'll get to cuddle with an overgrown cabbage patch kid?"

Nathan moved even closer, pinning her to the lockers and leaned down, capturing her lips with his. Izzy quickly wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and his hands found their way to her hips, his thumbs absently rubbing circles on the skin just above the waistline of her jeans. When he finally pulled back, he looked slightly dazed and immensely proud of himself.

"And that is how you do that," he said smugly, clapping his hands together and taking a few steps back.

"Yeah, really not seeing the appeal," Izzy smirked, grabbing the bag at her feet and pushing past him. "Maybe we should just quit while we're ahead."

"Aw, come on, Ginger!" he whined, following her out of the locker room. "I can kill the really big spiders in your flat."

"I'm not afraid of spiders," she replied in a singsong voice.

"I can carry heavy boxes and shit."

"Why would I need someone to carry heavy boxes for me? It's not like I'm moving out of my flat."

"I can fix the sink when it gets all clogged up and sewage is sprayin' everywhere like guts in one of those low-budget horror flicks or me after eatin' a bad kebab."

"Really?"

Nathan snorted heavily. "No. Of course not. That would mean I have some sort of marketable skill and then I'd have to go and get a proper job. Who wants that?"

They bickered and bantered all the way back to her flat. As soon as they got there, he grabbed the remote and jumped on the sofa theatrically, flipping on the telly and toggling through the channels until he got to one of the wildlife specials or football games. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Izzy observed him, a warm and fuzzy feeling penetrating her chest. But then something else caught her eye.

Sitting on the cheap new card table she had bought, she saw two books, black leather binding with a swirly Celtic design on the front. They looked just like that book Simon had waved around in his flat. The one that he had said she wrote. Izzy walked up to the table and flipped the first of the books—the new one—open. On the inside cover there was a note scrawled in Simon's handwriting that read 'to get you started'. The rest of the pages were blank. Izzy eagerly turned to the next one—the older one—and began to flip through the pages, only to find all of them had been completely blacked out. All of them, that is, except for the inside cover. There she saw the same note as in the new copy, but with one more sentence scribbled at the bottom in fresher looking ink. 'You really didn't think I'd make it that easy for you?' it read.

Izzy smiled. He was being coy. Even from the grave, Simon was being cheeky, taunting her. As much as she had whined about all the secrecy and shit, Izzy had quite liked him. And these days when she interacted with the present Simon, she was seeing bits and pieces of the other one beginning to appear. Izzy let out a laugh and grabbed books, sliding them onto one of her bookshelves, side by side.

"It's all coming together," she murmured under her breath.

"What's that?" Nathan shouted from the sofa, snapping her out of her reverie.

"Nothing," she said quickly, moving towards him and plopping down on the sofa. "What's on the telly?"

Nathan let out a long breath as he scrolled through the options until he found something suitable. "What would a lovely bird such as yourself say to 'Robots vs. Wrestlers'?"

"I'll make the popcorn."

**So there's the new chapter. I hope you liked the title (I found it to be quite clever if I do say so myself). So I had fun writing this, so hopefully that means I've conquered the writer's block. I'll start working on the next chapter soon, but I'll be super busy in the next few days so it might be a little while before it comes out.**

***Insert obligatory, desperate review-begging here***

**References:**

**-"Nut up of shut up" is from Zombieland, obviously. If you didn't know that, you're not as cool as I thought you were.**

**-'Robots vs. Wrestlers' is a HIMYM reference (I wish it was real, but unfortunately we are not so lucky)**

**I want to thank you guys for bearing with me through the repost. I know it's probably annoying, but it needed to happen. Good news is, I think I got my groove back, so be expecting completely, 100% new chapters soon!**

**Cheers!**

**It Belongs In A Museum**


	37. Post-Mortem

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to LittleGee, witchbaby300, Lady Shagging Godiva, Phaex, and Kaykay3265 for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

Chapter 37 – Post-Mortem

Izzy often found herself wondering how Nathan behaved when he was alone in the community center. For some reason her mind had painted an R-rated version of 'Home Alone', replacing all the ice cream and candy with booze and candy. Given the way he behaved while he was at her flat, it wasn't all that much of a reach. Leave someone with the maturity of a twelve-year-old alone in a large building that contains wheelchairs for long enough, shenanigans will inevitably ensue. So it wasn't much of a surprise when she walked into the locker room to find him slumped on the ground, eyes squeezed shut, and rubbing at his neck with a pained expression. Give a child a toy a little too grown up for them, and they'll manage to hurt themselves.

One day. That's how long it took for Nathan to get himself into some sort of trouble. He had been crashing at her flat all week, and then he's on his own for one day and managed to get himself all bent out of shape. Izzy came to a stop in front of his sprawled out legs and peered down at his sad, deflated figure. She let out a soft snort and scratched at her forehead. "Jesus, Nathan, you look like shit," she said through a laugh. "I leave you alone for one night and you manage to do this to yourself? It turns out I'm not your girlfriend. I'm your fucking nanny."

Nathan's eyes flew open and glowered up at her, not looking particularly amused. "Okay, one," he said, pushing himself up a bit and holding a finger out, "nannies are hot and we definitely need to start lookin' into some sort of costume, role-play situation—and two, you're my fuckin' girlfriend like you just went and pointed out. Aren't you supposed to be all concerned, wipe my brow, bake me cookies and give me a neck massage? How's about a little support?"

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "What am I supposed to support you through? A hangover? You've gotten yourself plenty of those before without me holding your hand."

"I thought girls were supposed to be sensitive," he grumbled back.

"Since when was I ever 'sensitive'," she replied using air quotes. Then she dug into her satchel and pulled out a crumpled brown paper bag containing a muffin and a banana and tossed it at him. "There's breakfast."

"Aw, you do care," he drawled out sarcastically.

The door to the locker room squeaked loudly as the rest of the ASBO shitheads filed in. Curtis made a beeline for his locker, but the rest of them migrated towards Nathan, looking at him curiously. And it didn't escape Izzy's notice that Alisha and Simon came in together.

"What's wrong wiv you?" Kelly asked, coming to a stop next to Izzy.

"Oh, there are so many answers to that question," Izzy said wistfully.

"Ha, ha, ha," Nathan replied derisively, pushing himself up a little farther. "What a laugh-riot you are. I'll have you know that some bastard killed me last night."

Izzy felt her hands clench into fists, causing her fingernails to dig into her palms and her knuckles to strain against the skin, leaving them white. Suddenly the desire to kick someone's arse flooded through her. As long as Nathan had the capability of speech people would want to kill him—she certainly did sometimes—but that didn't mean that they got to. But she was also a little pissed at Nathan as well for letting her prattle on like that.

"Seriously?" she demanded almost angrily. "You didn't lead with that? 'Morning, Izzy. There's a crazed killer running around the community center again who axe-murdered me. How's about a hug?' How hard would that be?"

"Feel like a bit of a twat now, don't you?" Izzy folded her arms over her chest and shifted uncomfortably on her feet, making Nathan smirk at her discomfort. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, wagging his finger in her direction. "That's how that feels."

"Are you windin' oz op?" Kelly asked, still skeptical. Izzy's eyes widened and she looked at him expectantly, silently demanding an answer.

"No," Nathan continued earnestly. "No, cross my heart and hope to die. Or not."

"Who was it?" Curtis asked, finally joining the conversation.

"I don't know! I was too busy being savagely beaten to death!" he shot back, taking umbrage. He let out a small sigh and shook his head. "That is not a pleasant way to die."

"Have you got any enemies?" Simon asked quietly, taking a few steps towards Nathan's limp figure.

"No," Nathan said, looking genuinely confused and staring at Simon like he had grown a second head. "I'm universally popular and well liked. Why would anyone want to kill me?"

A dead silence fell over the group as Nathan's statement hung in the air as the rest of them looked at each other. Had he really just asked that question? Curtis scoffed heavily and rolled his eyes. "I can think of a few reasons," he said, turning back to his locker.

"Definitely," Alisha added, an amused smile creeping over her face.

"Shitloads," Kelly piled on, giving him a wry look.

The lot of them turned to Izzy, waiting for her response. She shook her head and threw her hands up in submission. "I'm not touching this one with a ten-foot pole. The jokes are just too easy. I have standards."

"Really?" Alisha sniggered. "You're dating him."

"Hey, hey, hey," Nathan interjected, waving his hands frantically. "What's with all the hostility? What did I ever do to you lot? Or anybody else?"

A small, mouse-like squeak emanated from behind them, making them all turn around to find Simon standing there, barely suppressing laughter. He glanced between the rest of them, who were staring at him expectantly, and shrugged his shoulders.

"You annoy people."

Izzy turned slightly and shoved her fist in her mouth to fight the giggles threatening to burst forth. Nathan, looking positively scandalized, rounded on him.

"Now why would you say something like that? That's very hurtful. I thought we were friends, you ungrateful little twat!"

"Don't speak to him like that!" Alisha broke in angrily.

"Why are ya stickin' up for him," Nathan shouted, gesturing at Simon. A sly look crossed his face and he narrowed his eyes at Alisha. "Do you love him?"

Alisha bristled, and Izzy glanced down at the floor. They were the only two who actually knew just how true that was. "Why don't you go suck yourself off!" she grumbled, stalking off in the other direction.

"I wish I could, I could never reach it," Nathan remarked, staring off into space wistfully.

Izzy covered her face with her hands. This was not going to be a story she wanted to hear. If there was a way to shut off her ears she would have—dear God, she would have. But Nathan was never one for not telling you the truth in every gory detail. That may be considered a good thing in a relationship—a bloke who'll always tell you the truth or who's so terrible at lying that you can always call him out on it—but there are some things you just don't want to know. She was going to need all sorts of therapy.

"Ugh, that iz too wrong," Kelly replied, wincing heavily.

"Oh, come on, we've all tried," Nathan said smugly, pointing between himself and the other blokes. "This one time, right," he continued eagerly, sliding down on the ground and contorting himself into an awkward position with his head between his legs, "I tied a rope to my feet, and tried to yank them over my head—an' I've got like six pillows—I nearly broke my neck, I was so close." He collapsed on the ground with a heavy sigh. "An inch feels like a mile." He glanced around at them all with a supremely please look on his face. "So how close did you get?" he asked, gesturing at Curtis.

Curtis just stared back with an expression caught between disgust and pity. "I'm not even havin' this conversation," he sneered, turning back to his locker.

Unfazed, Nathan shrugged and pushed himself into the sitting position. "You see it must be physically impossible," he continued, like this was all part of a grand philosophical debate, "because if blokes could suck themselves off, the female of the species would be surplus to requirements."

"Well that's great," Izzy grumbled sarcastically. "If—or, I guess when—we break up you can take some yoga classes and you'll be set for the rest of your life."

Nathan looked up at her and blinked stupidly. "You think that'll work?"

Izzy widened her eyes and nodded in faux sincerity. "Definitely. And there's the added bonus that you won't be procreating, so no little Nathans in the collective gene pool. Score one for Earth."

"Hey, score one for me," Nathan returned. "I'll never have to watch 'The Notebook' again."

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him quizzically. "What the fuck does 'The Notebook' have to do with anything?"

Nathan rolled his eyes and scoffed heavily. "The only reason any bloke had ever watched that film is to get laid. Same goes for openin' doors an' buyin' flowers an' closin' your mouth when you chew. If I can suck myself off, then I don't have to try anymore."

"This is why people kill ya." Kelly turned to Izzy with a deadpan expression. "That's your boyfriend," she said, jerking her thumb in Nathan's direction, before heading off to her locker as well, leaving Nathan and Izzy alone by the sinks. Izzy shook her head and scratched at the back of her neck, letting out a long, plaintive sigh.

"What's up with you?" Nathan asked, still sprawled out over the floor.

"Absolutely nothing," she replied, staring down at him with a wry smile. "Just thinking about my life choices, how I ended up here, that sort of thing."

"Countin' your blessings, are ya?" he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Izzy tried to maintain a calm, deadpan veneer, but she wasn't physically capable of suppressing that snort of laughter that forced its way out of her nose. She rolled her eyes and held out a hand. He took it and she promptly hauled him to his feet. Once they were standing toe-to-toe, she let a sensual smile creep over her face and leaned in, causing him to gulp audibly. She let her lips graze his cheeks until she reached his ear and summoned up the most seductive voice she had.

"You better get started on those yoga lessons."

And with that she spun on her heels and marched towards her locker, leaving him standing there, gaping slightly.

"Aw, come on!" he shouted after her. "That's not fuckin' fair! You can't leave it at that!"

"Yes I can," she called back, wrenching open the door to her locker. "That's why I'm the 'Gatekeeper'! And we're watching 'The Notebook' this weekend!"

Nathan spluttered in confusion. "But you don't even like 'The Notebook'."

"No, I don't," Izzy said through a laugh, "but apparently I'm not making you work hard enough, so I guess we'll both have to suffer through it. For the sake of the relationship."

"You're a monster," he groaned, pouting like a child who had been denied a biscuit.

"Poor baby," she drawled out, rolling her eyes. "I'll tell you what, we can make out during the bits where Ryan Gosling has his shirt on."

There was a short pause.

"Deal."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Charity running. Izzy liked running, and she approved of charity, but whenever you combine the two, there seemed to be a massive influx of twats. Maybe it was the fact that exercise-related self-righteousness and do-gooder-related self-righteousness combined into a swirling vortex of self-importance. And then there was the fact that they always seemed to be smiling. Izzy never trusted anybody who smiled too much. In her experience they were either serial killers or they were trying to convert you.

Izzy huffed in frustration as she and Kelly hoisted what felt like the hundredth banner. How many exclamation points did it have? Twenty? One hundred and thirty two? As far as she was concerned no sentence that contained the word 'cancer' should ever be followed by exclamation points, whether or not it was for charity.

"I thought the point of these sorts of things are supposed to appeal to the good, upstanding folks," Izzy whined as she tied off the banner and hopped off the chair she was perched on. "You know, the ones who recycle and help grandmas cross the street. I feel like we're tainting all the do-gooderness with our moral depravity."

"They're not all that good," Alisha mumbled from where she was setting out chairs. "That prick's been staring at my bum all afternoon."

"Aw, don't sell yourself short, Alisha," Izzy said, walking up to the other girl and helping her with the chairs. "I'm sure he's been staring at your tits too."

The three of them continued to set out chairs in silence for a while, until Izzy noticed that Kelly was staring at her with a look of intense concentration. Slamming the chair she was holding onto the ground, she turned to the other girl, folding her arms across her chest angrily. "Are you trying to read my thoughts?"

"No," Kelly answered a little too quickly. Izzy raised a single eyebrow, and she sighed in defeat. "Awright, I woz. It's just….you an' Nathan are togeva, right? I woz wonderin' how the two've you fit. 'E's such a dickhead an' you….That shit 'e pulls like 'e did in the locka room—that dozn't botha you?"

Izzy bit her lip in thought and looked past the two girls at Nathan who was hovering behind Simon, sticking his finger in his ear and turning away every time Simon turned around. There were a lot of things wrong with him—his questionable hygiene, his inability to take anything seriously, his habit of constantly confusing reality and porn—but whenever they were together, they had fun. He was her best friend. Her idiotic, inappropriate, clever best friend. And who wouldn't want to keep someone like that around? Well, a lot of people actually, but she wasn't one of them.

"Nope," she said, shrugging her shoulders casually. "All the shit he pulls just gives me an excuse to make fun of him. Sure he's a dickhead, but I'm a bit of a dickhead too."

Kelly made a face that was somewhere between pitying and impressed. "Well, shit," she said before wandering off to get the boxes filled with water bottles.

"How about you?" Izzy asked, nodding at Alisha. "Any comments or concerns?"

"Nah," she said quietly, glancing over at Simon, who was still busy swatting away Nathan's hand. "For some reason I will never, _ever_ understand the two've you just….work out. I don't like the twat, but I get it. Sometimes the person who makes you happy isn't who you expect it to be."

Izzy could almost feel the regret in Alisha's voice. "Are you alright, Alisha?"

"'Course I am," she replied quickly, fluffing her hair. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Putting her last chair down, Izzy stopped a moment and actually looked at Alisha. The girl had changed so much over the past few weeks Izzy couldn't really reconcile what she saw now with that shallow, slutty diva from the first day. She was a different person now—a better person. Simon had done that for her—now he was gone and she was hurting. You wouldn't be able to tell if you weren't looking for it, but underneath that heavy makeup and flashy jewelry there was a sadness—a longing.

In a weird way, Izzy could relate to her. She knew what it was like to have someone enter your life, change your worldview, and then leave abruptly. For her it had been Ian. He was the one that made her realize people weren't all idiotic, heartless bastards, but then he had dumped her and reaffirmed that belief all over again. She might not look back on the experiences fondly, but they definitely shaped the person she had become. Simon had been Alisha's Ian. He had cared for her, and then left her. The difference was that Izzy got to burn Ian in effigy. Alisha had to stare at her dead boyfriend's nerdy doppelganger every day. Talk about lack of closure and fucked up goodbyes.

In that moment Izzy made a resolution. It probably wasn't the most advisable course of action—Simon had told her not to talk about him—but he was dead and she couldn't be bothered. It might seem insensitive, ignoring the request of a dead man, but Simon had a habit of telling her to do the exact opposite of what he intended.

"You just have to be patient, you know," she said in a forced casual voice, straightening out the chairs. "It'll all work out in the end."

Alisha's head snapped around quickly and she narrowed her eyes at Izzy suspiciously. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Izzy sighed heavily and tucked the stray hairs that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ears, smoothing them down nervously. She wasn't sure how this next bit was going to go, and it could be disastrous. "You and Simon," she sighed. "The other Simon I mean. Your Simon."

Alisha stared at her for a moment. Izzy could almost see her brain processing this new information. "You—you knew?" she demanded, her voice cracking a bit. "All this time, and you knew?"

"I don't see why you're surprised," Izzy mumbled. "The lot of you should know by now, I know everything. I'm like Yoda. Or Gandalf. Or Dumbledore. Definitely one of those." Izzy furrowed her eyebrows, mulling over her own statement. "Why are all of the wise, all-knowing characters old men? It's actually kind of sexist if you think about it."

Ignoring her semi-coherent ramblings, Alisha shook her head and let out a humorless snort. "All this time," she said, talking more to herself than Izzy, "and he fucking told you. I can't belie—"

"He didn't tell me a damn thing," Izzy interrupted. "I just…I figured it out. It's what I do, I try and figure things out. I only saw him like three times and that's including the first time when I ambushed him and kneed him in the groin and that didn't require all that much communication. He didn't tell me a thing. He was kind of a dick about it too."

"Why are you talking to me about this?" Alisha demanded angrily. "We're not friends—not really."

"No," Izzy agreed, nodding slightly. "But as far as I can tell, we're the only two who know. Which means I'm the only one you can talk to about it. I'm not the most….sociable of people, but someone is better that noone."

Alisha stared at Izzy a few moments before looking back at Simon. "That's not him," she muttered. "Not the him I want at least. It looks like him but it's not."

Izzy shoved her hands in her pockets and shrugged her shoulders. "He had to wait for you, didn't he? I guess now you'll just have to wait a while for him. To become who he needs to be or whatever."

Turning back to Izzy, Alisha offered up a small, sad smile, wiping at the tears that formed at the corner of her eyes. "How do you know so much about this shit?" she asked in a dull sounding voice. "You're like the least functional person I know. Other than Nathan. How the fuck did you turn into my Dumbledore?"

Izzy let out a long breath and wrinkled her nose, partly in contemplation, mostly in distaste. "I watched a marathon of the Jeremy Kyle Show with Nathan last week. It…..puts things into perspective."

The two girls stared at each other a moment until they simultaneously broke into a fit of giggles. It wasn't out of humor or amusement though—at least not fully. There was a bit of desperation in there as wall, at least on Alisha's part. She was desperate to find something to laugh about. And then, as if sensing her need, the universe threw her the proverbial bone.

All of the sudden Izzy heard a thump followed by a very loud, unmanly yelp. Izzy wheeled around to see Nathan sprawled out on the floor with the probation worker looming over him, even more smug than usual. "Hey, you're not allowed to do that!" Nathan whined pitifully.

"Yep," Izzy muttered to herself through a heavy sigh. "That's my boyfriend."

"Yeah," Alisha snickered. "Your boyfriend just got bitch-slapped by the probation worker."

"Hey!" Izzy said, an expression of mock enthusiasm covering her face. "Maybe when you and Simon finally get it together, the four of us can double date! Miniature golf, that sort of shit."

Alisha scoffed and gave Izzy a withering look. "Yeah, like I'd ever agree to that."

Nathan scrambled to his feet and moved away from the probation worker, glancing over his shoulder at Simon who was busy talking to some vaguely pretty girl associated with the charity run. Since when did Simon talk to girls? Nathan suddenly started marching towards the two girls with a serious expression—or as close to a serious expression as he could muster. Snapping his fingers at Curtis, he summoned him over as well. The three of them stood there for a moment, staring at Nathan in concern, waiting for him to say something.

"It's her," he mumbled, jerking his head somewhere behind him.

"Who?" Curtis demanded, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Nathan let out a frustrated huff. "The cute, smiley, popular girl," he said, jerking his head again. "I think she murdered me!"

"I thought you said you didn't know who it was," Alisha whispered back.

"No, no, it's all comin' back to me now," he said, tapping a finger to the side of his head. "She was here last night, and I was in the locker rooms watchin' her gettin' changed—"

"Aw, nice," Curtis growled, while Izzy raised her eyebrows and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him hostilely.

"No, no, it wasn't like that!" he continued, shooting Izzy an apologetic glance. "I walked in on her, bent over, pointin' her cute arse at me! What am I supposed to do? Poke my eyes out with a stick?"

Curtis and Alisha looked at an Izzy, expecting some sort of response. "What?" she demanded, tightening her arms around her waist. "When I watch X-Men I've paused the telly when Hugh Jackman takes his shirt off. I don't see how that's different-except for the whole invasion of privacy thing. Still there are plenty of people who'll ogle you with your clothes on. There's nothing wrong with appreciating a view. Now if he waited while she took her clothes off….."

"I didn't!" he protested loudly, waving his hands. "I might've taken a bit of a peek once I got there, but it's not like I peeped in on her on purpose. Anyways, that shit doesn't matter! I'm tellin' you, the bitch killed me!" He turned around and looked in the alleged psycho-bitch's direction. Izzy followed his gaze only to discover that the girl in question was the one Simon was chatting up. Or who was chatting up Simon. "Aw, Jesus," Nathan whined. "She's after Barry now!"

Nathan turned around to face the girl and planted his hands on his hips. After a few moments the girl's eyes looked past Simon and fell on Nathan, and when they did the smile immediately dropped off her face. Suspicious.

"Yeah, that's right!" Nathan muttered to himself, leering at her. "You killed the wrong guy, you cute, psycho bitch! That's right, I'm onto you! And my super-hot girlfriend is gonna defend my honor and kick your cute little arse! Preferably in some sort of mud wrestlin' scenario where it starts rainin' and—"

Izzy smacked him upside the head, promptly cutting him off. "Seriously, Nathan? If you live your life comparing reality and porn, you're always going to end up disappointed."

"Would the two've you quit it?" Alisha interjected. "If she's after Simon, we've got to do something!"

Izzy was about to agree with her, but before she could Alisha stormed off, immediately followed by Curtis.

Nathan let out a snort. "What's up with them?" he asked, jerking his thumb in their direction.

Izzy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering again how she had ended up in this relationship and what had happened to her in her life so that she liked being in it. There was definitely something very wrong with her. But answering that question would require a lot of time, introspection, and a therapist. For now she would have to satisfy herself with saving Simon from the clutches of a creepy, smiley charity runner. Seriously, those people were worse than clowns.

**Okay, so there's chapter 37. I had fun writing it but there's a lot of dialogue and not much action so I'm not sure how it translates. Hopefully well, but as always my indecisive self might go back and tweak it later.**

**Please review! Right now as I'm posting this it's the day before my birthday, hence the potential for birthday reviews! **

**MORE AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this is the first chapter with Nathan and Izzy as an actual couple without any of the awkward uncertainty. What do you think? I hope I'm keeping them true to themselves, but also showing a realistic couple (especially with all the disturbing Nathan antics in this chapter).**

**Also, I have nothing but respect for charity runners, but with Misfits the characters have a tendency to hate everything, so…..**


	38. Lady Killer

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to LittleGee, TARDISbluecolour, kyshet, Phaex, ChayagraceDaya, and XxPookerxX for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

**OK, not sure how this turned out. Hopefully Nathan and Izzy continue to look like a realistic couple and I was able to convey their concern for Simon well enough.**

Chapter 38 – Lady Killer

"What do you mean she killed you?"

Izzy shifted awkwardly in her feet, digging her toe into some of the tarmac that had begun to break up. She didn't like this. She didn't like this one bit. It felt too much like an intervention, but at this point there was nothing to intervene with. The only result of this ill-fated effort was a defeated Simon, looking around at all of them with wide, uncomprehending eyes, like a puppy who had just been kicked. And nobody, no matter how cruel or apathetic they may be, likes looking at a kicked puppy. Except maybe Nathan, who was the person doing the metaphorical kicking in this scenario.

After the lot of them were through with work, the six of them made their way to the roof, and poor Simon had no idea what was waiting for him. He had been on Cloud Nine since the cute, smiley girl talked to him, completely oblivious to the whispers and pointed stares of the rest of them. He was acting quite goofy, really, and even though it had to be done, Izzy wasn't looking forward to popping that tiny little bubble of happiness he had built up. She had told Nathan to go easy on him, but as a twat with a flair for the dramatic, he wasn't likely to succeed.

Scoffing loudly, Nathan plopped the case of beer he was carrying onto he ground. Izzy cringed inwardly at the slight sneer that covered his face. No, he wasn't going to go easy.

"I _mean_ she smashed my head onto the sink like this," he spat grabbing onto his hair and gesturing violently, "until my brains started dribblin' out my ears!"

Simon's mouth opened and closed a few times, searching for something to say. Izzy really wanted to go over and give him a hug, but that degree of condescension probably wouldn't make his situation any better.

"No," he said finally, shaking his head pathetically. "No, she wouldn't do that."

"How do you know?!" Alisha broke in suddenly, showing more concern than Izzy had ever seen her exhibit before. "You don't know anything about her!"

Nothing like a love triangle to make things more interesting. Maybe Alisha was the one who needed a hug. Fuck it, maybe they should just have one giant, magical group hug that would solve all their problems and simultaneously bring about world peace. That sounded totally plausible. Izzy sighed heavily and stepped in line with Alisha and Nathan. Izzy could see the flicker of hurt and betrayal cross his face as she moved towards them, making her squirm internally. "Look," she said in an apologetic voice, "just consider the timing. She shows up and then Nathan's suddenly getting himself murdered?"

"Yeah, man it all adds up," Nathan barreled on. "Do the maths."

Simon wrinkled his nose at Nathan. "There is no 'maths'."

"Right!" Nathan growled determinedly, gesticulating wildly. "She was here _plus_ noone else was around, _times_ she caught me leerin' at her semi-naked, _divided by_ all the weird shit that happens to us, _equals_ guilty." He planted his hands on his hips and nodded at Simon, looking supremely pleased with himself. But Simon just stared back blankly.

"That means absolutely nothing."

"Oh my God, really?" Nathan spluttered angrily. "She's a beautiful girl and she's here, in the community center!"

"So?"

"So I seem to remember a similar scenario that resulted in me havin' sex with an eighty-two year-old woman," he mumbled, cringing at the memory.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Izzy grimaced. "I could've gone the rest of my life without being reminded that I'm Eskimo sisters with someone's gran."

"Hey, she never had any kids!" Nathan shouted back.

"Right," Izzy replied, rolling her eyes. "Because that's the take-away here."

"L—look," Simon stuttered smoothing his hair down nervously like he always did, "Jessica's not someone's gran. And she's not going to kill me."

"But you've only just met!" Alisha protested. "You don't know her, and weird shit always happens around here."

"Remember there was that shape-shifter girl," Curtis added. "She was mental."

"Yeah, look wot 'appened wiv you an' dat probation worka," Kelly piled on.

"_And_ did you know that some of the marathon runners shit themselves?" Nathan demanded, placing his hands on his hips and looking at them as if he had delivered the final piece of damning evidence.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Izzy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You shit yourself all the time." Izzy was about to break into one of her sarcastic rants, but Simon caught her eye. His jaw was twitching and his eyes were roving about. He almost looked like he was about to have a fit. "Simon, are y—"

"S—so you think that if a girl likes me, there must be something wrong with her?"

Izzy was about to protest, but Alisha beat her to it. If she was trying to keep her feelings to herself, she was doing a piss-poor job of it. Anybody paying the slightest bit of attention could see the spark of desperation in her eyes or hear the worry coloring her voice. Well it was a good thing then that she surrounded by a group of unobservant, self-involved young offenders. "No, that's not what we're saying!" she said in almost a pleading voice, looking at Simon poignantly.

"Isn't it?" Nathan asked stupidly.

"No!" Alisha and Izzy hissed simultaneously.

Nathan made a face and shrugged his shoulders. "I thought that was exactly what we were sayin'." Izzy didn't hesitate smack him over the head, eliciting yet another unmanly yelp, and turned back to Simon to apologize, but he was already wandering off to the door of the roof. He looked sort of numb as he walked away, moving like he was on autopilot and ignoring their protests as he moved. As the door shut behind him, the rest of the group turned to face Nathan who was rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. It took him a few moments to realize everyone was staring at him, and when he finally did a jovial smirk covered his face.

"I think that went pretty well."

"Prick," Alisha muttered under her breath before spinning on her heels and stamping after Simon.

"What?" Nathan shouted after her. "It went well, right?"

Izzy shook her head and sighed, patting Nathan on the shoulder patronizingly. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you were genetically engineered in a secret underground government lab."

"What, like Spiderman?"

"Yeah, Nathan," she breathed out. "Like a giant, twattish Spiderman." And with that she pushed past him and followed Alisha through the door. While she was on her way down the stairs she heard a loud thwack and another cry from Nathan.

"Why do you girls keep hittin' me?"

In retrospect it hadn't been the best laid plan. Izzy wondered why she ever thought it would be a good idea in the first place, confronting Simon. He had to know, he had to protect himself, but Simon was a fragile guy. The first little flicker of potential happiness, and suddenly that happiness was conspiring to kill him? It was a bitter pill to swallow, and she couldn't blame Simon for wanting to spit it out. And she had to face the fact that Nathan wasn't exactly the most reliable witness—or the most convincing one. It's easy to be in denial of something when there's no concrete evidence supporting the claim.

"Alisha?" called out hesitantly, winding her way through the halls looking for the other girl. As hard as this all was for Simon, it was probably just as hard for her as well. She was put in the position of the 'jealous ex' without ever technically being in a relationship with the guy. She had to watch all that innocent, doe-eyed sincerity as Simon started mooning over another girl he didn't even know. After what was apparently an epic romance that defied the strictures of time and space, she must be facing a giant, steaming pile of disappointment as well.

Looking at it from the outside, romance just seemed so….hard. Alisha and Simon, Alisha and Curtis, there seemed to be so much drama flying about. It had been the same for her and Nathan in the beginning, all of the willful blindness, misunderstandings, and general obliviousness, but none of that really seemed to matter at this point. There wasn't any drama—it wasn't hard. The two of them just seemed to click. Maybe it was because they knew each other so damn well. All the ins and outs—the good and the bad—they knew it all. There was no pretending to be anything. Nobody would be writing poems or songs like they might for Simon and Alisha, but Izzy didn't need songs. Which was probably a good thing because Nathan singing sounded like a bag of cats that had been thrown into the drier. Permanent press. No, Izzy just wanted to be happy—content—and by some ridiculous twist of fate she had found that with a curly-haired twat who talks about trying to suck himself off.

"Alisha?"

Izzy turned the corner that led to the main entrance to find Alisha standing in the doorframe, staring at something with a slumped, defeated posture. "Alisha, wha—"

Alisha waved her hand and quietly shushed her, making Izzy furrow her eyebrows and move in closer. Peering over Alisha's shoulder, she could see Simon and the cute, psycho bitch—Jessica—over by the vending machines. Izzy leaned in as close as she could without becoming visible and strained her ears. Jesus fucking Christ, he was asking her out for a drink. And she was saying yes.

Izzy cleared her throat awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck, acutely aware of just how much she _shouldn't _be there. She felt like she was intruding upon a highly personal moment. Two highly personal moments, actually—Simon's first semi-successful interaction with a girl and Alisha's personal bubble of grief. She glanced down at the girl. She couldn't see her face, but the back of her head looked particularly mournful.

Opening and closing her mouth like a dying fish, Izzy tried to find something to say. Words of comfort, words of understanding—any words at all—but they eluded her. It turned out being a socially maladjusted, emotionally stunted delinquent had its drawbacks. In the end, what she settled on probably didn't do anybody any good.

"Well in retrospect we probably should have seen that coming."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

After that little encounter with Simon and the cute, psycho bitch—Jessica, her name was Jessica—the group seemed to dissolve away into the background. Alisha was out of there as soon as possible, with a look of sad determination on her face, whatever the hell that meant. Curtis bailed as well, but not before his patented 'sexy face' made an appearance, indicating he was off to slip it to some lady-friend, probably that pretty girl with the sour face and no sense of humor they had met in the warehouse. And then Kelly—well Izzy honestly had no idea what happened to Kelly. For someone who could read people's minds, she wasn't all that much of a 'sharer' herself. It was actually kind of unfair if you thought about it.

Then there was Simon. Oddly enough, he was the last of them to leave. After that whole ordeal, she would have thought he would be the first one out the door, but after buying a packet of crisps from the vending machine and heading back to the locker room to get her bag, he was still standing there in front of the mirror, smoothing down his hair. She could see him staring at his reflection, that expression of fear and self-doubt. He looked totally different from that image of the future Simon she kept in the corner of her mind, and it left her wondering what exactly was going to happen that would change him from this self-conscious mess into that pseudo-superhero. After a few moments, he caught sight of her in the mirror. His eyes locked with her for a moment before quickly grabbing his things and scurrying out of room as quickly as possible. She called out after him, but the only response she got was a slamming door.

Ugh. Why did everything have to become so fucking difficult? Even with all the other shit they had to deal with—murderous probation workers, psychotic shape-shifters, gay-making tattoo artists—it somehow managed to boil down to relationship drama. Potentially homicidal relationship drama, but relationship drama nonetheless. It was the same old formula. Boy meets girl. Girl kills other boy. Boy is emotionally desperate and goes out with girl anyway. All while other girl is watching longingly from a corner for boy to become future version of boy she's in love with. Sure the formula had a few quirks, but the basics were the same, more or less.

"Well this day has been a giant load of shit," she sighed out, collapsing in a chair next to Nathan in front of the obscenely outdated TV in one of those offices.

"I don't know what you're complainin' about," he replied, sliding her chair closer to his and draping his arm over her shoulder. "You're not the one who had to die. Again."

Izzy rolled her eyes and grabbed the remote from him, switching on the telly and flipping through the channels. "I guess this just makes you one giant fucking cautionary tale, doesn't it?" she shot back, smirking slightly. "Creep on a girl in the locker room, you've got to prepare yourself for the consequences."

"And those consequences involve someone doin' a tap dance on my skull? The punishment hardly fits the crime!" He folded his arms and pouted, which was equal parts cute and annoying as hell. "I mean, seriously! Why am I always the one gettin' killed? Pretty soon you lot will have to start callin' me Kenny or some shit like that because I have to go an' die in every fuckin' epis—"

Izzy cut him off, leaning in and pressing her lips against his, in a short, firm kiss. When she pulled back, Nathan was looking at her a bit surprised. "What?" she demanded, raising her eyebrows slyly at him. "I thought you wanted me to kiss it better?"

A slow smile crept across his face. "I guess you're gonna have to work a bit harder then, love," he shot back. "I'm still sufferin' here. I need 20 CCs of lovin'. Stat."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am _not_ putting on a slutty nurse's uniform? And I'm still wondering why you have one of those in the first place."

"Hey, a bloke's got to have his secrets!" he shot back. "I'm a fuckin' international man of mystery."

"Sure you are, Miss Moneypenny."

"Hey, I am _not_ Miss Moneypenny!" he whined back. "I'm the one Miss Moneypenny has the hots for!"

"Twat," she muttered under her breath before kissing him again, with more force this time. Nathan twitched slightly in surprise, but didn't hesitate to return it with that same jumpy eagerness. Izzy smiled into the kiss. It was always the tiniest bit awkward, but in the best possible way.

After a few moments, Izzy felt Nathan's arm circling her waist and hauling her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer, kissing him hard. Kissing Nathan was always a good way to forget about the problems facing the lot of them, the ones that seemed to keep piling up at their feet for no particular reason whatsoever. It was like the two of them had this bubble—a tiny, dysfunctional bubble that noone else could, or probably wanted to, understand. But one niggling thought managed to get through to her. One of Nathan's hands started to slide down from her waist in the general direction of her arse, and unfortunately for him that's when she came to a decision.

Izzy pulled back from Nathan. His lips followed hers as she sat up, craning his neck and trying to reach her with a hazy, bleary look in his eyes.

"Nope," she said, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back, away from her. "Sorry Casanova, but we've got other things we need to take care of."

"What?" he groaned loudly. "What else do we have to take care of?"

"He's about yay high," she said, holding out her hand, "twitchy, socially awkward, and may be about to be gruesomely murdered by a cheerful charity runner. Ringing any bells, here? Not exactly the time to be making out."

"Well maybe I was wrong," he whined, gently scraping his nails against the skin of her lower back. "It was dark, I wasn't payin' all that much attention. Honestly I'm surprised any of you lot believed me in the first place. I'm not exactly all that reliable, am I?"

"Seriously?" Izzy demanded, poking him hard in the chest. "You're going to go back on all this now so you can get an extra grope in before supper?"

Nathan sighed heavily and collapsed back on the chair, running his hands down his face in frustration. He might whine about it, but she could see that he was worried as well. The relationship between him and Simon was odd, but it was the closest thing to a genuine friendship Nathan had, excepting her of course. 'A reluctant bromance,' she had decided to call it—a relationship where Nathan was the pervy older brother habitually trying to corrupt the young, naïve one.

"Okay, fine," he mumbled in a defeated-sounding tone. "What the fuck are we supposed to do?"

Izzy leaned down and gave him a quick kiss before climbing off of his lap. "I'll try and talk to him. You try and keep an eye on Jessica. I'm pretty sure she's still wandering about the community center with some more of those charity runners." Moving towards the office door, she saw a couple of the volunteers skitter by, making her shiver a bit. "Those people creep me out. They could be zombies if they weren't all vegetarians."

"So we're all agreed on savin' the little pervert," Nathan called out from behind her, "but how's about a little quickie in the bathroom before we get to it?" Izzy wheeled around and glared daggers at him, making him throw up his hands in submission. "Sorry, love! Just askin'!" Izzy rolled her eyes and pushed out of the office, but not before Nathan called out after her.

"If we do end up savin' Barry, I'm gonna expect a kindly worded apology for cock-blockin' me!"

"Yeah, and make sure he has it notarized too," she shot back.

Walking out of the community center, Izzy pulled her mobile out and scrolled through the contacts until she got Simon's number. She hit 'send' button and listened to it ringing and ringing until it went to voicemail. Great. Now the little twat was screening her calls.

"_H-hello, you've reached Simon Bellamy. If you want to leave a message, please wait for the beep._"

"Hey, Simon," Izzy said in a voice that probably sounded too cheerful given the circumstances. "I just wanted to say sorry for everything that happened today. We all just got a little carried away, and—just call me back so I can apologize in person. Okay, then…See you later! Bye. This is Izzy by the way."

Ending the call, Izzy pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, swearing heavily. When it came to this kind of shit, blokes were like children. Simon was no doubt sulking in a corner, waiting to go out on his little date and prove them all wrong. Blokes had a seriously fucked up concept of pride. For the sake of it, they would behave like a child, and that kind of defeated the purpose, didn't it?

Izzy called Simon about seven more times, left four more messages, and even dropped by his place. After a severely uncomfortable chat with his parents, she left with no more information than she had to begin with. Though she did have a bit more of an insight into his character. With all of that, there was only one place left to go, though it was more than certain Simon would not be there.

With a loud clang, Izzy shut the door to that elevator and punched the button causing it to shudder and start its slow, creeping descent to the future version of Simon's flat. As expected, he was nowhere to be seen, but there was a figure standing at the far side of the room.

"Hey," she called out to Alisha, who was standing at the wall of photos, gently caressing one of them she was holding in her hands.

Alisha glanced up at her and scoffed, turning away to surreptitiously wipe away the tears that have formed in the corner of her eyes. "Of course," she said with a little venom in her voice. "Of course you know about this place too. Is there anything he didn't tell you?"

"Again, he didn't tell me anything," Izzy replied, walking towards with her hands shoved deep in her pockets. "I actually followed you here once, as creepy as that might sound. So really you've just got yourself to blame for being so transparent and suspicious."

Izzy approached Alisha and stood next to the girl, staring at the wall of photos. Some of them she recognized as shots Simon had taken with his camera. Others were completely unfamiliar. Hell, they might not have even happened yet. Izzy could spend hours pouring over those photos, trying to come up with some sort of pattern, but really it felt like one giant cosmic joke. Some practical joke Simon had left behind.

"It fucks with your head a bit, doesn't it?" she said, breaking the silence. "Looking at the photos? It's like a giant puzzle of your life, but you have no idea how to put it together. Usually, I'd say start with the corners, but….."

"There's no picture of her here," Alisha said suddenly, making Izzy turn to her. "I thought that maybe he'd leave something behind as a hint or whatever, but he didn't."

"Nah, that would be to easy," Izzy drawled out sarcastically. "Far too convenient for us. We've got to work for it, you know? Otherwise what's the point?"

"I don't know if there is one any more," she mumbled, running her fingers over the photo she was clutching. Izzy glanced down at her hands and saw that it was the one of her and Simon in Las Vegas.

"You realize it's inevitable, right?"

Alisha furrowed her eyebrows and blinked in confusion. "You and Simon. It actually has to happen. The universe would implode if it didn't."

Alisha snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, because the two've us are so fuckin' important."

"No, you don't get it," Izzy said, taking the picture from Alisha. "This—" she continued, holding up the photo, "this actually _has_ to happen. You and Simon have to get together, this picture has to be taken, otherwise it's a paradox. Paradoxes can't happen, big cosmic no-no."

"How do you know about all this stuff?" Alisha asked quietly, taking the photo back and putting it her purse.

Izzy exhaled loudly and shrugged her shoulders. "It's all wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey physics stuff. I won't bore you with the details. All I'm saying is that under these circumstances, that cheesy, over-used romance trope 'meant to be' actually applies."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Alisha asked, rounding on Izzy. "I've been such a bitch to you—to everybody. Why would you want to help me now?"

Izzy rocked back and forth on her heels. She wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. There was a time not to long ago where she wouldn't have bothered—hell, she wouldn't even have cared. And Alisha wouldn't have made her want to care. They had both changed. She could have told Alisha what she was thinking, but that would require a degree of sappiness that her personality just wasn't willing to accommodate. So she went with the universal standby.

"Because?"

Alisha gave her a withering look and was opened her mouth to retort when Izzy's phone started blaring out the 'Doctor Who' theme song. Izzy held up a finger, indicating for Alisha to wait, and held it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Ginger, thank fuckin' God," Nathan's voice rasped into the phone, crackling slightly. The apartment got seriously shit reception. "You know the cute, smiley popular girl who murdered me?"

"I'd say I'm familiar by this point."

"Yeah, well she's just killed some other guy! He's dead!" All of the sudden there was a faint gurgling noise followed by a loud screech. "No! No, he's alive!"

"What?" she shouted, plugging her other ear with her finger so she could hear better.

"No, no, he's dead again."

"Well, which is it?" she demanded, getting a little bit panicked.

"Dead," Nathan's staticky voice said. "Definitely dead."

"And you're sure it was her?"

"Of course I'm fuckin' sure! One minute I'm eatin' a sandwich an' I see her with some bloke who tried to feel her up. She flips out, storms off, I go after 'em, and then I find the bloke twitchin' on the ground with his throat cut!"

Izzy swore heavily and rubbed anxiously at her forehead. "Then we've got problems. Simon's meeting her for a drink at the bar of the Estate."

"See you there," Nathan said, followed by the loud click of him hanging up the phone.

Izzy swore again and shoved her phone in her pocket before turning to Alisha who was standing there, a look of worry covering her face. Izzy took a deep, calming breath and tried to assemble her thoughts.

"Fancy a drink?"

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

It took about fifteen minutes for them to get to the bar. Nathan was already there, hiding behind a car and sneaking around like he was suddenly a character in a spy novel. Only characters in spy novels generally didn't trip over quite so many things.

"Where's Curtis and Kelly?" he asked, wrinkling his nose slightly. "What happened to 'safety in numbers'. This bitch has already killed my once already, it's someone else's turn! The more people here, the more people I can push in front of me."

"Their phones are still switched off," Izzy explained, ignoring Alisha's snort of distaste. "I don't think we're going to be getting any backup."

"_Both _of their phones are still switched off?" Nathan asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "You don't think they're…." And then he trailed off, opting instead to engage in a game of sexual charades.

"Seriously?" Izzy groaned, rolling her eyes. "Why can't you just say 'fucking'?"

"Well do you think they are?"

"No," she and Alisha barked simultaneously.

"Alright, alright, Jesus!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in submission.

"Where are they?!" Alisha demanded, looking around anxiously.

"Oh, they're still in the bar," Nathan replied. "But I can't see her makin' a move until they leave." He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded awkwardly, shooting Alisha a few glances. "So who'd a thunk it?" he said, punching her in the shoulder lightly. "The three of us, teamin' up on somethin' like this."

"This is about the least weird thing that's happened to me recently," Alisha retorted.

"That's fair," he said, continuing to nod. "So…what do we do now?"

Izzy bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess we wait for something interesting to happen."

And that's what they did. They waited. And waited. And waited. That was the bit films never really tell you about. They always gloss over the boring bits—the stake-outs and that sort of stuff. It was kind of disingenuous. The three of them just stood there, staring at the door to the bar, waiting for Simon and his lady-friend to reveal themselves. Izzy sighed and checked her watch for the eighteenth time. What the fuck was taking them so long? Were either of them really interesting enough to merit such a long conversation?

"So why are you here?" Nathan asked suddenly, staring at Alisha curiously. "I mean, I get why Ginger is—geek solidarity or some shit like that—but it's not like the two've you are big pals."

"What and you are?" Alisha demanded skeptically, raising her eyebrows at him. "Why are you here?"

"Well maybe I like him more than I let on."

Alisha let out a soft snort and shifted on her feet a bit. "Yeah, well maybe I do too."

Nathan let out a small smile. "The little bastard gets under your skin, doesn't he?"

Izzy rolled her eyes in amusement, and kept her eyes trained on the door to the bar. There was movement. It slowly opened and Simon stepped out, followed by Jessica. "Ugh, I hate to break up this adorable Hallmark moment," she hissed under her breath, "but we've got company."

The three of them scurried and his behind a pillar while the two of them walked by. Jesus fucking Christ, they were holding hands. The adorability factor was nauseating. Who the hell was that clingy after only one date? If Jessica wasn't a serial killer, then the two of them were probably two dates off from merging into a single, globular, amoeba-like creature.

As Simon and Jessica moved, the three of them slid along the walls, careful to stay out of sight. Then all of the sudden, Jessica came to a sudden stop still clutching Simon's hand. He looked at her, confused.

"Come on," she said suddenly, tightening her hold on his hand.

"Where are we going?" he asked stupidly, staring at her with those wide, naïve eyes.

Jessica didn't answer. She just yanked him along after her into a dark, dirty car park.

"Holy shit," Izzy whispered. "You were right. She's actually going to kill him."

"Of course I'm right, Ginger," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him. "Now come on!"

They scurried into the car park like mice and hid behind some old, rusted over clunker. They slowly stood up from their crouching positions so they could peek over the cab. The pair was at the other end of the car park, all cozied up in a corner. Jessica was leaning against the dusty brick wall. Then she suddenly leaned down and planted a kiss on Simon's lips.

"She's like one of those evil bitch spiders," Nathan hissed seriously. "They lure you into their web, they shag ya, then they kill ya, and then they eat their own feces!"

"What?" Alisha demanded, looking at him like he was a fucking lunatic.

"Black widows," Izzy hissed back. "He's talking about black widows. Except for the feces part. That's just a product of his child mind."

Simon and Jessica continued to make out for a while, making Nathan whine like a petulant child. "Aw come on, this just isn't fair!" he whispered, gesturing violently at the reenactment of first half of 'Fatal Attraction'. "I've got to go without to save his arse, while he gets to snog the cute psychopath? And those are the freaky ones!"

"Yeah, it's all fun and games," Izzy muttered back. "Until one of them slits your throat. Again."

"Would the two of you shut up?!" Alisha hissed. "She's leaving!"

After an uncoordinated session of shushing and slaps upside the head, silence finally fell over the three of them. Jessica had disappeared and Simon was walking in their direction with a silly smile covering his face. It was the kind of expression you see on the face of a small child when they eat candy for the first time. And nobody wants to crush the joy of an adorable little kid. That settled it. This was a fucking terrible day.

As Simon approached, the three of them ducked behind the car. "That's right," she whispered under her breath. "Just keep walking. Just walk on by."

Simon passed up the car and continued to move forward, allowing for a small surge of victory. Soon, though, he started dragging his feet, finally coming to a complete stop. Izzy squeezed her eyes shut, choosing in that moment to believe the childlike notion that if you can't see them, they can't see you. After a few moments she cracked an eye open to see Simon staring down at them. Illusion destroyed.

"Hey, man," Nathan said, waving and smiling jovially.

"What are you doing?" Simon demanded, staring down at them with disapproval.

"Just….hangin' out," Alisha added, brushing the dirt off her skirt as they all rose to their feet.

"Yeah," Izzy said, nodding along. "Just seeing the sights, shooting the shit, maybe a little but of semi-delinquent loitering. You know, the usual."

Simon narrowed his eyes and surveyed the three of them suspiciously. "Were you…following me?"

"Hey, we could ask you the same thing," Nathan shot back. Simon raised his eyebrows in disbelief causing Nathan to falter. "Okay, yes," he admitted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Look, we were worried about you," Alisha said in a pleading tone.

"You don't have to be," he responded tersely.

"Well, tough shit," Izzy replied. "Friends worry about each other. That's how it works. Especially when said friend is dating the female version of Dr. Jekyll."

"Jessica's not going to hurt me," he defended staunchly. "She wouldn't do that."

"Oh, really," Nathan shot back, planting his hands on his hips. "Tell that to the dead guy at the community center. Oh, wait! You can't! Because your new girlfriend killed him!" He drew his finger and stuck his tongue out dramatically.

"Look, what's the harm in checking, hm?" Izzy added, taking a step forward.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

To say that the walk back to the community center was uncomfortable would be a serious understatement. None of them spoke the entire way there—not even Nathan. As soon as they got there, Nathan led them through the excruciating labyrinth of beige. When they came to the scene of the crime they found….nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"No, no, no," Nathan mumbled semi-coherently. "He was lyin' right here! Alright? Blood was all pourin' out of throat and he was all gurglin' and shit!"

Simon came to a stop, glancing around and looking at Nathan expectantly. "So where is he now?"

There was a short pause as they looked around at each other for an explanation. "She's moved the body," Alisha interjected.

"Right," Nathan said, snapping and pointing at her in agreement. "Who leaves a dead body lyin' around to be discovered? We never do and we're not exactly the most competent killers."

Simon sighed heavily and shook his head. "And how did she do that when she was having a drink with me?"

"Maybe she had help," Izzy suggested tentatively. "An accomplice or something. Maybe she called somebody. Maybe there was someone else waiting there."

"Yeah!" Nathan shouted. "Maybe she had help. I mean why would I make this up?"

Simon narrowed his eyes and shifted so he was standing toe-to-toe with Nathan, staring him down. "Maybe you're jealous."

Nathan let out a derisive laugh. "Please," he said, pointing at his face. "Look at me. Beautiful. Look at you. Not so much. Plus I've got that tasty piece of arse waitin' for me at the end of the day. What the fuck to I have to be jealous about?"

Izzy clenched her jaw and punched Nathan in the shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Would you stop being such a prick? It's not exactly helping the situation!"

Alisha sighed and shook her head before turning to face Simon. "So why am I here?" she asked, giving him an earnest look. "Why is Izzy here?"

Simon blinked at Alisha in confusion and shook his head. "I—I don't know." He turned back to Nathan, glaring hostilely. "You stay away from Jessica."

"_You_ stay away from her!" Nathan spluttered back.

"No!"

"W—well I think you should!"

Simon shook his head and disbelief and simply walked away, leaving the three of them staring after him. Izzy closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead in frustration. At least Simon would be alright, for today at least. But she didn't see him feeling any differently tomorrow. He would probably want her even more. With all of there opposition and nay-saying, they had built up the perfect little forbidden romance situation. Why was it that people always want what they can't have? Were they all masochists? Izzy groaned and slammed her head into Nathan's shoulder and he patted her hair in an awkwardly comforting way.

That was loneliness for you. There were two different kinds that Izzy knew of, the one where you had had enough of the world and the one where you desperately wanted to be a part of it. One kind—the one she used to be so familiar with—makes you want to pull away, to disappear into yourself and to hell with everyone else. That kind leaves you numb. And you don't really mind so much because it's exactly what you want.

Then there was the other kind of lonliness—the kind she knew Simon suffered from. That kind happened when you keep reaching out to people, and keep getting rejected. For people like Simon there was never any numbness, just an acute, poignant pain. It made sense that he would latch onto the first flicker of happiness that came his way. But therein lay the rub. In attaching himself to Jessica, he was missing out on the one thing she knew would make him happy—the girl standing next to her.

Straightening up and stepping away from Nathan, Izzy glanced around at her compatriots and sighed heavily.

"Well….that could have gone better."

**So you've made it to chapter 38.  
**

**I don't like to beg or be pushy, but I guess I'm doing that right now. Please review, you guys! Also, there were a couple of people who used to review habitually like 15 chapter back and don't anymore. I hope I haven't lost your interest!  
**

**Any suggestions are welcome. I just really want people to enjoy this story.**


	39. Fancy Dress

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Lady Shagging Godiva, incitanemxx, CharagraceDaya, Liberty Blake, and MarleyBeatles for reviewing! You guys are the best.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

Chapter 39 – Fancy Dress

Well this was a giant load of wank.

Izzy didn't understand blokes. She really didn't. They spent far too much time playing video games, they invested way too much in sports, and the lengths they would go to in order to get laid were simply astounding. Generally she wouldn't have given too shits about Simon's libido, but generally the only thing at stake was a condom, some breath fresheners, and a dose of some ridiculously potent cheap cologne. This time, though, Simon's emergency stash of Drakkar Noir wasn't what was being threatened. It was his life. And it was his behavior, not his body spray, that reeked of desperation.

She was being harsh. Izzy knew that she was being harsh. Maybe it was what she was being forced to do, sitting there delivering cups to water as the charity runners jogged by, that put her in such a foul mood. Or maybe it was the fact that she had gotten an incredibly shitty night's sleep. She had lain in bed, eyes wide open for hours listening to Nathan's snoring and worrying her arse off that Simon would go and do something stupid, like call Jessica. When he had left them at the community center he had looked so….betrayed. Again, not that she blamed him for it. Nathan—idiot that he was—had a way with words, particularly when insulting people, and for somebody as sensitive as Simon that could lead to serious hurt. Which was why she was glad to see him smiling as he walked towards the watering station they were operating, but simultaneously terrified of what that smile might mean.

"I'm tellin' you there's somethin' seriously wrong with this girl!" Nathan hissed at the rest of them, continuing the rant he had been on for a good fifteen minutes.

Observing Simon's approach, happy, jaunty steps and all, Izzy smacked him in the gut and loudly shushed him. "Oi, incoming!" she whispered, jerking her head in Simon's direction.

Oh, shit. He had that dreamy look about him again—the one he had on his face after Jessica had kissed him. That was not a good sign, but at least he wasn't dead yet. Maybe he wouldn't die at all. If past events were any indicator, this Jessica only killed people who were creeping in on her against her will. That guy from the previous night had been trying to feel her up, and she knew Nathan wouldn't have bothered trying not to look lecherous. Hell, if her past experience with the curly-haired leperachaun was any indicator, he probably offered her an 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' scenario. From the looks of it, Jessica was pursuing Simon and any attention he gave her would be more than welcome. But that didn't change the fact that Simon was dating a cute, creepy murderer who sets up charity events. What was there to guarantee that she didn't go all 'Glenn Close' on him at some later point in the realtionship, boiling rabbits and the like. They had to put an end to this, for the sake of the rabbits at least.

As Simon approached, Izzy quickly let the sour expression drop from her face and plastered a cheerful smile on instead. He blinked stupidly and returned the smile, never loosing that sort of hazy look, as if he was looking into the sun. Jesus, was this the precursor to his own personal 'naked lady' face? Izzy winced internally. She needed to scrub her brain with rubbing alcohol to get rid of that thought.

"Jessica's invited us to a fancy dress party tonight," he said giddily, holding out a small stack of invitations for them to take. The rest of them just stared at the invitations like they were diseased or something, unwilling to take them. After a few silent, uncomfortable glances, the smile on Simon's face began to fade slowly and was replaced by a more familiar look of angst. Izzy's eyes flickered to Nathan's and he returned the gaze, appearing simultaneously hesitant and sympathetic to poor little Simon's plight. Izzy rolled her eyes. He might talk a lot of shit, but when it came down to it, Nathan was just a giant softie.

"You know what, you were right, man," Nathan said suddenly, punching Simon lightly in the shoulder. "I was jealous. Seein' you runnin' around with all the ladies, bein' all footloose and fancy free while I'm tied down to this one over here." Izzy felt him smack her on the arse before draping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in towards him. "I mean don't get me wrong, Ginger is great an' all that, but sometimes a bloke just wants to go around and sew his wild oats and shit. It is in the Bible after all."

"Uh, dat's no' in da Bible," Kelly deadpanned.

"Isn't it?" Nathan asked, blinking stupidly.

"I don't think the Bible's going to give you an excuse to be a man-whore," Alisha grumbled, wrinkling her nose at him in disdain.

Izzy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, forcibly keeping a more somber expression on her face. This was all too ridiculous—especially the way that Kelly and Alisha were staring at Nathan in disgust. As if they weren't used to this sort of shit by now.

"Huh," Nathan responded, making a sheepish face. "Well anyways, the point is that I'm jealous. I'm jealous of your...neat hair and your...that starin' that the ladies seem to take so well to. An' I hope that you and..." He started snapping his fingers absently, searching for the name.

"Jessica," Simon supplied, staring at him in amusement.

"Jessica," Nathan exclaimed, seizing onto the name, "lovely, lovely Jessica. I hope that the two of you will be very happy together."

"Right," Simon said through a small smirk, looking between Nathan and Izzy, who, still pinned to his side, was giving her boyfriend a scathing look and trying to hide the amusement that was no doubt shining through a bit. "Well maybe you and Izzy can sort out your problems."

Nathan scoffed heavily and released his hold on Izzy, folding his arms over his chest. "What problems?" he retorted, sounding positively scandalized. "Me and Ginger are doing fine, thank you ver much. And anyways, even if we weren't, I have plenty of girls waitin' to pick up the pieces of my poor, shattered heart. That's the thing about birds, they always want to take care of you. If Ginger and I did break up, I'd be pullin' women by the dozen."

"Like who?" Simon asked, raising his eyebrows suspiciously.

Nathan blew out a long breath and raised his eyebrows, searching frantically for a name. Izzy could see the little gears turning in his head. Too bad they were completely covered with rust and grinding against each other. Slowly.

"Well there was this one bird," he said, drawing out the words so that he had more time to think. "Her name was...Mo...ni...ca. She's French."

"How _dare_ you mention that bitch's name in front of me!" Izzy shouted through suppressed laughter, punching him hard on the shoulder and making him yelp slightly. "After the night she was all rubbing up on you at that bar? I mean she was a French chick wearing a fucking beret! How cliche is that?"

"I'm sorry, baby," Nathan returned, giving her a falsely apologetic look and placing a hand on her shoulder. "It didn't mean anything, honest! It's the animal magnetism I've got goin' on. It's not somethin' I can just turn off!"

"Maybe you should invite her to the party," Simon suggested, trying and failing to conceal the smile on his face.

"Nah, I don't think that'd be the best idea, mate. You know how jealous that one gets," he said, jerking his thumb in Izzy's direction as she shrugged sheepishly. "Don't want her to start clawin' people's eyes out, now do we? But seeing as this party is happening ten feet from my bedroom, I will see you there!"

Smirking heavily, Simon held out an invitation which Nathan snatched up before slowly turning and walking back to the community center. As she watched him go, Izzy couldn't help but notice a change in his posture. He had always stood straight, like there was a metal bar fused to his spine holding him up, but his head would sag a bit, like he was opting to look at people's feet rather than their eyes. Now though, his head was held high and was looking people full in the face. Was that because of Jessica? A girl flirts with him a bit and all of the sudden he's miles closer to conquering his social anxiety disorder? What the fuck would happen if he got laid? Izzy really wanted to talk to somebody about it—how Simon was going to change and what he was going to become. She wanted to talk to Nathan about it, especially since he seemed to be the person with the most invested in Simon other than herself and Alisha. But future Simon wasn't her secret to tell, and if she did say anything he would probably make some comment about how Alisha had a magical vagina that somehow managed to un-pussy-ify 'weird kid'.

Ripping her eyes away from Simon's retreating form with it's oddly confident stride, Izzy turned back to face the others who for some reason were staring at her with a disbelieving expression on their faces. "What?"

"Are you two serious?" Alisha demanded, pointing between Izzy and Nathan.

"When am I ever serious?" he demanded through a loud scoff. "But we need to be there! To keep an eye on her! Think about it—it's a fancy dress party, it's dark, we'll all be wearin' masks. It's the perfect opportunity to commit murder...and incest!"

"He's not wrong," Izzy said, nodding slightly in agreement. "I mean he is about the incest thing but the murder thing...Who's going to be able to identify a murderer in a mask? And if you're going to murder somebody the community center would be the place to do it. All those storage closets and industrial-sized refrigerators...well you guys should know by now. We've done it plenty of times ourselves."

"They've got a point," Curtis said, laying out more cups on the table for the runners. "I still think this all might be bullshit, but if she is gonna kill Simon, that'd be the time."

"So we're agreed then?" Alisha said, looking at them all eagerly. "We're goin' to the fancy dress party to look out for Simon?"

There was a round of nods and murmers as they all consented to that week's misadventure.

"Who's Mo...ni...ca?" Kelly demanded in a jeering tone.

"That is the worst made-up name I've ever heard," Curtis chuckled, shaking his head at Nathan.

"I don't know about that," Izzy snorted, jabbing Curtis in the side with her elbow. "I think he could've done worse if he really put his mind to it."

"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side," Nathan said through a spluttering scoff, pointing an accusing finger at Izzy. She raised a single eyebrow at him and he deflated a bit. "Y'know names were never my strong suit, but I think the whole French thing sold it."

"I think the bit about the beret sold it," Izzy replied drolly, grabbing one of the cups of water and taking a long sip. "The visual image gives a higher level of authenticity."

Curtis scoffed loudly and scratched at his forehead, giving them a weird look. "The two of you are fuckin' unbelievable."

"Unbelievably awesome," Izzy retorted, holding her hand up and giving Nathan a high-five. Curtis rolled his eyes and turned back to his work. "He's just jealous of our love," Izzy whispered conspiratorially, forcing her cup of water into Nathan's hand.

"You bet your cute little arse he's jealous," he said, smacking her arse lightly before she could swat his hand away.

"You know I can here you, right?" Curtis drawled with hostile sarcasm.

"Yes," they answered simultaneously, looking at him blankly.

Curtis looked at the both of them and scoffed loudly, turning away. "This is gonna get old really fuckin' fast."

Nathan glanced at Izzy and shrugged his shoulders, randomly tossing the water over his shoulder so that it hit some jogger in the face.

"Prick," the guy muttered, wiping off his face.

"Sorry mate!" Nathan shot back jovially.

Izzy pressed her hand to her mouth as she tried to suppress the snickers of laughter. She was dating a man-child—an over-sexed man-child. Maybe it was appropriate that they were all about to play a game of dress-up, because that general age-range seemed to be the maturity level they were all functioning at. Then Izzy's eyes fell on Alisha and the laughter died on her lips.

It baffled Izzy how nobody else seemed to be picking up on the changes in the girl's demeanor. She was quieter, more self-contained, and had obviously begun investing more in the members of the group. And how the hell was it that Kelly hadn't picked up on any of this shit yet? Were they all really that self-involved?

In all honesty, Izzy felt guilty. Guilty for helping Simon with that last desperate act of courage, for facilitating his heroic suicide, for not doing anything to stop it in the first place. Seeing as she had been hanging from a meat hook at the time, there wasn't anything she could have done to stop it in the first place. And then there was the fact that changing anything would have brought about a paradox. Objectively she knew that there wasn't anything she could've done, but she still felt like she helped him die, and the somber expression on Alisha's face was partly her fault. If there was a bright side to all of the future Simon business, it was that she was completely certain Simon would survive the cute psycho bitch. It wasn't time for him to die yet. But that still didn't mean that they didn't have to save his life. All it meant was that if Simon's life was, in fact, at risk, they would be saving him.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

"Does anyone else feel like a total cunt?"

Well, the answer to that question was a giant, resounding yes. Of course she felt like a cunt. All of them should, really, standing in a line like that. At least she was in good company, wedged between Nathan and Alisha with Curtis and Kelly standing further off on the right. Why the hell would they all dress up as superheroes anyway? Wasn't that just a little too on the nose?

Izzy was completely wrapped in spandex, a mix of silver and deep royal blue that was arranged in a pattern that made her look much curvier than she did under normal circumstances. That and the fact that Alisha had insisted that she purchase a 'proper' bra. Plus she had been forced into a pair of high-heeled black ankle-boots that were making her feet ache already. Izzy missed her converse. And she was fairly certain that high heels had been invented by men, because there was absolutely no reason for a woman to voluntarily subject herself to that much pain.

Izzy pulled at the costume and released it, letting it hit her skin again with a loud thwack. The synthetic fabric was tight against her, making her feel both naked and completely bound at the same time. She did not like that costume. With all the dancing and crowds of people, she would start sweating and then he rest of the night would be spent stewing in her own juices and by the time she got home she would be as sticky as the floor of the movie theater. She would probably smell about the same too. But apparently, despite her rather high level of discomfort, she looked decent. Curtis threw out another one of his 'you actually look like a girl' comments and even Alisha seemed to approve. But regardless of the positive male attention she seemed to be receiving—and female attention in some cases—she wanted nothing more than to be in those baggy flannel shirts of hers. They were her comfort blanket.

"I feel like I'm wearing a giant condom," she shouted over the loud, pulsing music.

"That's great, love," Nathan shouted back. "Now you know what it's like to be me."

"Stop being such a perv," she said, smacking him in the orange foam six-pack now covering his stomach. "We need to stay focused tonight, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," he whined back, surveying the crowd.

After a few moments of standing there like they were reenacting a stock photo from a Marvel comic, someone started pushing through the crowd in their direction. Pigtails, a cowboy hat with a feathery fringe on the rim, tiny checkered shirt tied off at the midriff so that the belly button showed. And Izzy had thought her costume was cliched.

Though most of Simon's face was covered by what looked to be a Mexican wrestling mask, Izzy could see that silly smile play on his lips as Jessica moved closer. She walked up and without a single word planted a kiss on Simon's lips. It wasn't a flagrant or exhibitionist kiss, just a small peck, but for some reason the saccharine nature of it made her stomach turn. And from the expression on Alisha's face, she wasn't too happy about it either. Apart from the fact that she was potentially a murderer, Izzy had no reason to take issue with the girl, but as Jessica offered them a quick smile and dragged Simon off onto the dance floor, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Nice costume," Nathan said, smirking slightly.

"Uh, she looks like a slut," Alisha bit out in response, her voice dripping in derision.

"Yeah," Nathan said, nodding in agreement. "A cute slutty, murderin' psychopath!"

Izzy narrowed her eyes at the the lovebirds as they wandered off on the dance floor, disappearing somewhere behind the Joker and the giant mouse.

"We've got to keep eyes on him," she said turning to the rest of them. "We need to—where the fuck is Kelly? Jesus fucking Christ." She ran her hands down her face in frustration and sighed heavily. "I guess it's time for a dance, then. You guys go ahead. I'll need at least three shots before I'm drunk enough to even attempt it. Everybody's got their mobiles on them, yeah? We need to be able to contact each other if shit goes down."

While the others made their way to the dance floor, Izzy went to the locker room. Wrenching the door open, she pulled out the emergency handle of whiskey she always kept in the back. There was only about a third left. Wrenching the cap off and tossing it aside, she poured the rest of the brown liquid down her throat, wincing slightly as it burned her esophagus on the way to her stomach.

Fucking social anxiety disorders. It probably seemed like a terrible idea, downing liquor while she was trying to guard the life of a friend of hers, but it was necessary. She was fine most of the time, but when there were too many people, there were too many thoughts running around her head, and when there were too many thoughts, she couldn't think at all. Alcohol evened her out, slowed her down enough that she could actually think, as counter-intuitive as that might sound. Sometimes the phrase 'self-medicating' isn't a euphemism for simply getting plastered.

Izzy walked to the full length mirror on the wall and stared at her reflection for a moment. She looked cartoonish in that costume, though that was probably the point. She was a superhero—an incredibly flawed, low stakes superhero.

That all too familiar warm, buzzing sensation began to form in her chest and radiate outwards till it reached her fingertips and a calmness settled over her. Okay, then. It was time to get down to business. Throwing her head back, she let the last few droplets of whiskey slide down her throat. She tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trash can, listening as it fell through a few layers of paper towels before clanking as it hit someone else's flask. Izzy wiped at the corners of her mouth and smiled at the sound. She could always trust somebody to be drunker than she was. That was at least one universal truth.

"Suck it up, McCallum," she whispered to herself before turning away from the mirror and bursting through the doors, weaving her way through the throng of dancers. After being rubbed up on by Freddy Krueger and Batman, Izzy finally managed to fight her way through to the others, only to find that Simon wasn't there anymore.

"What the fuck is going on?" she demanded angrily looking between Curtis, Alisha, and Nathan.

"He wandered off," Curtis yelled.

"Oh, and you couldn't follow him?" Izzy shouted accusingly.

"Hey, you weren't even here!" Curtis shouted back, glaring at her with a special sort of intensity.

"Yeah! I trusted you guys with him for like ten minutes! Apparently that was too much credit!" she returned. "Jesus fucking Christ! Alright, let's split up. Curtis take the roof. Nathan take all the corridors and rooms to the left of the main entrance. Alisha take all the ones to the right. I'll take the dance floor and the locker rooms and all the stuff in the middle. Everybody still got their mobile on?"

After they all nodded in assent, they split up, moving in all directions. They could have really used Kelly as well, but apparently she was busy doing whatever the fuck it was that she was doing. Her absence bothered Izzy. She had noticed something off with Kelly's behavior—she had been a hell of a lot quieter—but was whatever it was she was dealing with worth Simon's life? Because as ridiculous as it might seem, that was the equation they were dealing with right now. But they really couldn't think about her presence or absence right now. The only thing on the agenda was Simon.

There was a reason Izzy decided to be the one to take the dance floor. It was the same reason she hated being there so much—when she wasn't high or too drunk to fully focus on things, that is. It was because no matter the situation, she always payed attention to the people surrounding her. The more people present, the more threats present, because that's what people were, really. They were threats, wild cards, uncontrollable variables that sent your life flying in totally different directions if you let them. That's why she hated crowds so much. It was because she had to be aware of everything, all the time, and she knew how it could affect her future, if she had one. And as much as it hurt her head to think about it, that degree of super-awareness would serve her well under these circumstances.

As she walked through the dance floor, weaving through the people like it was a game of 'Snake', Izzy came up with absolutely nothing. She had to restrain herself from punching that giant, plushy mouse that started rubbing up on her, opting instead to simply shove him as far away from her as possible. Who goes to a dance party in a fucking mouse suit? Whichever pervy bastard was inside that thing would probably end up dying from dehydration. Well, not she was glad she was dressed as a giant condom. Otherwise she might have gotten an STD through the mouse suit. Fuck, she hated parties.

The dance floor was a bust. The locker rooms were a bust. She had checked the showers, the bathroom stalls—she had surprised quite a few blokes when she burst into the men's room, ignoring their girly shrieks as she kicked open all the stalls. After a quick nod and "carry on", she moved back into the hallway and collapsed against the wall. She stared at those ridiculous streamers and banners that now draped the community center. It looked more like a six-year-old girl's birthday party than a dance, except for the bit with the alcohol. She would not let Simon die in a six-year-old's birthday party.

Reaching into her boot, Izzy pulled out her mobile. The first number she punched in was Nathan's, then Kelly's, Alisha's and Curtis's. No answer. The music was too lout for any of them to hear ringer. "Fucking hell," she murmured under her breath, pushing herself off the wall and moving back down the hall. She was about to push her way into that main room, but as she held out her hand to push open that door it swung open, seemingly on it's own accord until a flustered, breathless Alisha appeared on the other side.

A small, slightly relieved smile crossed Alisha's face when her eyes fell on Izzy. "Thank fuckin' God," she breathed out, shutting the door behind her and turning the loud music to a dull thumping sound. "Nobody's answerin' their phones. I haven't found Simon yet. You?"

Izzy gritted her teeth and shook her head. "No such luck."

Alisha swore and pushed the synthetic black fabric of the wig she was wearing out of her face. "What do we do now?"

"Double back, I guess?" Izzy suggested, running her hands down her face in frustration. "Nathan doesn't exactly have the best attention span. Neither does Curtis, really. I say we check out the roof and then take the corridors Nathan was supposed to go through."

Alisha didn't bother saying anything before she spun on her heels and took off in the direction of the rooftop stairway. Izzy swore and jogged after her, cursing her shoes as her feet pounded against the ground. Heels were not made for running, even those small, two inch ones she was wearing. Izzy wasn't used to them. The way she was moving, she probably looked like a baby deer learning to walk. Alisha took the stairs two at a time, with Izzy lamely tripping over them after her. "Slow down would you?" she shouted, hearing the door to the roof squeak open. And then Izzy almost collided with the other girl's back, seeing as she came to a complete stop at the doorway.

"Alisha, what the f—oh." Izzy came to a skidding halt as well because, on that crappy old arm chair with the grandma fabric pattern was a very naked Curtis, solidly situated between the thighs of a very naked 'girl upon whose bed Nathan took a shit'.

Izzy shoved her fist in her mouth to suppress the immature and ill-timed giggle threatening to escape from her mouth. Curtis, apparently having heard her quiet outburst, looked up over his lady-friend's shoulder to see the two of them standing there, Alisha with a blank look on her face and Izzy with wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and a hand clapped over her mouth. A bunch of emotions flitted across his face—surprise, embarrassment, regret. The girl's reaction, though, made Izzy think that maybe she wasn't so bad after all. She twisted her head around to look at them and let out a snort of laughter.

"Well, this is awkward."

Without saying a thing, Alisha slowly turned and walked back down the stairs. Izzy stood there a moment longer, not sure what the protocol was for these kinds of situations. Then she realized just standing there in front of two people mid-coitus probably wasn't it. Dropping her hand from her mouth, she waved lamely. "Nice to see you again." She turned to follow Alisha down the stairs but pause at the door frame a moment longer.

"Oh and Curtis?" she called over. "Nice arse."

The girl started laughing hysterically and Curtis swore loudly as Izzy made her way back down the stairs, moving as quickly as she could to catch up with Alisha. When she finally did, Alisha just raised a hand, heading off any inquiries. "Just leave it," she said in a low voice. "Let's go find Simon."

Izzy just nodded in response and the two of them wove their way through the corridors Nathan was supposed to search. He was nowhere to be found. All that ranting about how Jessica was the killer, and he just fucked off. What the hell had distracted him from this? It had better have been pretty good, otherwise he was going to be getting quite the scolding. Jesus fucking Christ, she really was his nanny.

The two girls moved down the halls, clearing the rooms. Nothing, nothing, nothing. In one room there was a pile of towels that, in the dark, had kind of looked like a body. That had freaked them out for about thirty seconds. And then they pushed open the door to one of the seemingly infinite number of storage lockers and it swung open to reveal a limp body, lying in a pool of blood.

Izzy clapped a hand over her mouth and leaned against the wall right outside the door, trying to fight against the nausea turning her stomach. Most people don't know what five quarts of blood looked like. This was fourth time she had gotten to see it. Or was it the fifth? Izzy squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath. And only then did she get over that preoccupation with the blood and realize that the person lying on the floor was wearing a purple Mexican wrestling mask.

"It's not him!" Alisha's voice said from inside the room.

Izzy blinked in confusion and pushed herself off the wall, moving to stand in the door to the storage room. "What do you mean it's not him?" she asked Alisha, who was crouching down by the body.

"I mean, look!" she replied, yanking off the mask, revealing blond hair.

Izzy's eyes raked over the dead boy in front of her. Same costume, different bloke. That could only mean one thing.

"Jessica's not the killer. She can't be."

Alisha looked up at Izzy from her position on the floor. "Well who the fuck is, then?"

Izzy bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head. "I don't know, but is seems like someone is killing _for_ her. And now we know for sure they're going to try and kill Simon."

"Shit!" Alisha shouted, rising to her feet. "Whoever it is had got to be close by."

Alisha took off running down the hall, again with Izzy trailing behind. The two of them turned a corner only to see a flicker of a shadow moving through a door. Then Jessica's voice rang out through the corridor.

"Dad, what are you doing!"

Alisha froze for a second and looked at Izzy with wide eyes. Then she broke into a dead sprint towards the door, pausing only to wrench a fire extinguisher from the wall. Soon enough there was a shriek and a loud thunking noise—presumably the sound of metal hitting skull. Swearing heavily, Izzy wrenched off those godforsaken boots and tossed them aside, abandoning them as she ran down the hallway barefoot and wondering why the fuck she hadn't just done that earlier.

The scene she came upon when she arrived in yet another door way was truly bizarre. The community had to some sort of cosmic fun-house, filled with creepy clowns and distorted mirrors. Every time you opened a door, there was no telling what would be on the other side. This time it was Jessica's father, unconscious on the floor, Alisha standing over him with the fire extinguisher in hand. And then there was Simon and Jessica, half-dressed and looking positively terrified.

Izzy looked from Simon to Alisha to Jessica and then to Simon again, trying to wrap her brain around the sheer awkwardness of the situation. And, in true form, she said something completely irrelevant and possibly rude.

"Seriously?" she exclaimed, gesturing between Simon and Jessica. "How many people are fucking in the community center? Is there something in the water?" She scratched at her forehead and shook her head. "I'm going to go call the cops. Let's hope they don't bring a black light."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Now Izzy had yet another reason to hate the police. Sure they had their purpose, but she couldn't possibly see how it was necessary to keep her locked in that office for the entire fucking night. How long did it have to take for her to give her statement? In her opinion, pointing at Jessica's catatonic father and saying 'he did it' pretty much summed up the entire adventure. At least she got out before Alisha and Simon. They would have to stay behind a bit longer seeing as Simon was the one busy being murdered and Alisha was the one hitting people over the head with blunt objects.

Izzy wandered to the main lobby. All of the dancers were gone and now with the limp banners and puddles of cheap beer covering the floor, it looked more like a crime scene than the leftovers of a party. Which was ironic seeing as there was an actual crime scene about twenty meters away. Walking over to the refreshments table, Izzy filled her arms with cans of warm beer and headed to the roof. At least she would be able to watch the sun rise. And she would definitely be sure not to sit in that lounge chair now that Curtis had christened it.

Opening the door, Izzy saw two figures standing near the edge of the roof dressed in superhero costumes.

"What the fuck happened to you guys?" she shouted, depositing the beers on the table. "Did you forget Operation 'Prevent Simon From Having His Brains Bashed Out'. I mean seriously, what the hell, Nathan? After all that ranting about Jessica, I would've thought you—"

Izzy let her words drop as Nathan waved her off, gesturing frantically as Kelly who was—shit Kelly was crying. Izzy walked up to the edge of the roof as well so that she was standing next to Nathan. She leaned forwards and took a good look at the girl's face. She was down-right despondent. "What happened?" she whispered quietly to Nathan, her voice thick with concern.

"She was kidnapped by a gorilla wearing a gorilla costume. The police shot him."

"Wait, wh—"

" 'Is name woz Bruno," Kelly said, still staring out in front of her across the lake. A single tear coursed down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. "The storm messed 'im op, made 'im human."

And then Nathan went and did something totally uncharacteristic of him. He comforted her. "You okay?" he asked gently, patting her on the shoulder.

Kelly snorted bitterly and wiped at her eyes again. "Most people say somefin' to your face an' then fink somefin' different. Bruno wozn't like that. 'E thought nice things about me. I meet a guy I really like, an' 'e's a fockin' monkey."

"Well technically he was a gorilla," Nathan mumbled. Izzy cleared her throat and elbowed him in the side. "Yeah, let's just not go there."

Izzy wasn't quite sure what to do with that information. The bar for weird shit had been raised, but this was even more off than the gay, rapist werewolf. So Izzy said the only thing she could.

"I'm sorry."

Kelly just nodded and waved them off. Izzy bit her lip and nodded to herself. She understood not wanting to talk, especially something like this. It must have felt like some sort of cruel joke or prank. It was a lot to come to terms with.

The three of them stood there, overlooking the water as the sun rose, casting pale rays of light over the Estate. It was moments like this—the quiet moments— when Izzy could almost forget the hailstorm of shit flying about in her life. The back of her hand brushed against Nathan's and they stood there for a while, barely touching, before he took her hand in his and laced their fingers together. They turned to face each other, both wearing sad smiles. Finding sincere Nathan was a rare occurrence, but whenever he did appear, there was a tenderness to him that never ceased to surprise her.

The loud squeak of the door to the roof made the lot of them turn around to see Curtis, Alisha, and Simon file through, finally done with the cops. All of them looked exhausted, but Simon looked particularly deflated.

"Hey, Jesus!" Nathan shouted, releasing Izzy's hand and walking towards Simon. "What with all the monkey business I forgot about you and your girl! So she didn't brutally murder you, then?"

"What, you didn't tell them?" Curtis asked, gesturing at Izzy.

"Other issues at hand, man," she replied, holding her hands out in appeasement. "Other issues."

"It was her dad," Simon told Nathan, rubbing absently at his hair. "Jessica isn't a psychopathic killer. She's a virgin."

"I _knew _there was something wrong with her!" Nathan shouted, snapping his fingers eagerly.

Then the defeated look on Simon's face morphed slightly, turning into a small, self-satisfied smirk. "There isn't anymore."

Nathan wheeled around, looking for witnesses, and a giant, shit-eating grin covered his face. Jesus fucking Christ, he looked he was starting to cry a little bit. "I'm proud of you, man!" he said happily, pulling Simon into a bear hug and patting him on the back. Izzy hid a smile behind her hand. Of course this was something Nathan would emotionally invest in—another bloke's virginity. Nathan pulled back and grabbed Simon by the sides of his head, forcing eye contact.

"And I expect to hear every disgusting detail!"

Izzy snorted and walked up to them, patting Simon on the back. "Congratulations, man. Bagging a virgin? That's like finding an unicorn. And then defiling it, I guess."

"Oh, yeah, he defiled the hell out of it," Nathan said, still smiling widely and draping one arm over Simon's shoulder, the other over hers, and then for some reason giving them big, sloppy kisses on the cheek. "Hey, this calls for a celebration," he continued eagerly, going over to the table and passing out the beers Izzy had brought up.

"Maybe this is what it's like to be a superhero," Simon muttered to himself.

Nathan snorted loudly and popped open his beer, taking a long swig. "I think it'll take a little more than you gettin' laid to turn you into a superhero...Unless—"

"Jessica does not have a magical vagina."

**How's about that? Nizzy finishing each others' sentences. **

**So hopefully I added in enough couple-y stuff, but I don't want to write the story with the Nizzy relationship as the exclusive, central element. And for some reason I'm really liking pairing off Alisha and Izzy, developing the friendship between them and all that. I don't know why, maybe it's because it shows the evolution of both of their characters over time.**

**Please review! Pretty please. We're coming to the end of season 2 and I would love to know what you guys think of how the story had progressed. I'm writing fanfics as practice for original stories, and right now I'm particularly focused on character development. So what do you think? Any advice? Drop a review and let me know.**


	40. Press Release

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to ShineX, TARDISbluecolour, witchbaby300, Liberty Blake, MarleyBeatles, and LittleGee for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

Chapter 40 – Press Release

Izzy never watched the news. She never read the papers. Sure, occasionally she would glance at the headlines and generally knew the basics of what was going on in the world—who was at war with whom, which economies were in a state of collapse, which celebrities were going back into rehab—but she never actively pursued that sort of knowledge. It was the kind that seeped into her brain through diffusion. She knew that she should try and keep up with things, that being socially and politically aware was crucial to self-improvement and all of that bollocks, but if she was being honest at this point in her life, she really didn't give a shit. There was enough drama in her life to begin with. She really didn't want to have to deal with the world's as well. Usually it wasn't all that much of an issue, because what did the world's problems really have to do with her? She had no idea that was an assumption that would come back to bite her in the arse.

Now Simon, he was someone who kept up with things. He spent so much time on the computer, not all of it could be searching for porn and editing clichéd videos of plastic bags floating in the wind. No, most days Simon showed up to community service with a 'did you read that story about' or a 'did you hear that broadcast on'. Usually he ended up being Izzy's proxy, giving her information about what the fuck was going on out there in the big, bad universe. That morning he had flipped on one of the old tellies and showed them a broadcast.

"Tha' has ta be the shittest powa eva."

Yup, Kelly had pretty much summed it up in that unfailingly deadpan voice of hers. Some twitchy little twat who could do stuff with milk had gone public. Lactokinesis? Telekinesis would have been fucking awesome, but taking the suffix and tacking the fancy version of the word 'milk' onto the end does not an impressive power make. Great, now she was thinking like Yoda.

The little twat probably thought that he was the only one of them with powers—that he was special, unique. That was the only possible explanation for how he could appear on television, looking so fucking pleased with himself. Because really, if he knew that there were people out there who were immortal or who could turn invisible or hear people's thoughts, he would never have come out of the metaphorical closet seeming so confident. It really was the shittest power ever. Actually, no, it wasn't. From a media perspective, Curtis had the shittest power because nobody would ever know or not if he actually did anything. Poor useless Curtis. He had saved their arses probably more often than any of them could count, but they always focused on the times that he didn't. Oh, well. It was more fun that way. Anyways, the point of it was that that milk guy thought he was a unicorn, something entirely new. Well he was about to be sorely disappointed, because pretty soon he was going to find out how remarkably unremarkable he actually was. Poor sap.

They had turned off that stupid fucking broadcast hours ago, but the scene was still swimming around in her head. The flashing as those cameras took photographs, the shouts of reporters, and most of all that creepy little smile on milk guy's face as he watched them all go crazy over him. Izzy didn't really understand all that bullshit—the need for fame and attention. She did need it, she didn't want it, she wanted nothing to do with it. Not that she wanted to stay poor or whatever, because that would be absolutely ridiculous. There were just so many things she hated that went into it—crowds, yelling, behaving herself, dressing in all sorts of fancy clothes—none of it seemed appealing to her. Which was why she was so epically freaked out by the frantic shouts and flashes that appeared the moment Simon stepped out the front door of the community center. The wolves were at the gate. But who the fuck had sent them?

The six of them were standing in the lobby, preparing to go about yet another day of shitty, litter-filled work. Izzy had actually been in a particularly good mood. But then Simon turned away from the door, trash bad and litter picker hanging uselessly in his hand and staring at them with a wide-eyed expression of terror. Then she knew her day was going to change, and not for the better.

"What was that?" Curtis shouted in a slightly panicked voice, gesturing at the door.

"Th—they know about us," he stuttered out.

"Who?" Nathan demanded, looking positively baffled.

"Men in Black? The BBC? Jeremy Kyle?" Izzy piled on, prodding at Simon. "Who was out there? Who knows?"

"Everyone!" Simon returned, terror mounting behind his eyes.

"Wot are ya talkin' about?" Kelly growled, narrowing her eyes at him.

Simon stared the ground and shook his head, breathing heavily like he was trying to calm himself down. "There are reporters and TV cameras outside—lots of them."

At the mention of TV cameras, small smiles appeared on most of their faces. Nathan started grinning like a fucking idiot. But Izzy didn't. Instead she pressed her lips together in a thin line, as she listened to the obligatory protestations.

"Bullshit."

"No way."

"Are you serious?"

Simon looked between them, his jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth, and nodded. The reaction he got in response probably wasn't the one he expected, and it definitely wasn't the one that he wanted. Smiles all around. Or almost all around.

"Alright," Nathan said, moving towards the door. "I think I might just take a little peek."

"Don't open the door!" Simon shouted in response, throwing himself between Nathan and the horde of reporters. The two of them grappled with each other for a moment before Nathan managed to push past. "Don't!" Simon shouted pathetically one last time. Nathan spared him another cheeky grin before pushing his way out.

After a few moments basking in the glory of media attention, Nathan stumbled back through the doors tripping over his own feet and almost collapsing on the floor. He righted himself and planted his hands on his hips, flashing them all a beatific smile. "That is really quite a lot of reporters."

" 'Ow did they find out about oz?" Kelly grumbled, looking poignantly at Nathan.

Slowly all heads turned to Nathan, shooting him a suspicious look. "What? No, I didn't do anythin'!" he said, pointing at himself. "I don't think I did." He took a moment, putting on his 'pensive' face. "I'm almost positive I didn't."

Just then the sound a door slamming shut rang in their ears and the probation worker strode out of his office with even more unwarranted swagger in his step than usual, carrying a box filled with a ficus, a couple of pens, and probably a stack of porn. There was only one reason he would be carrying that box. That reason being that he was a rat bastard.

"You!" Nathan shouted loudly, snapping his fingers and pointing at him. The probation worker trudged to a stop and slowly spun on his heels, giving them a good look at his smug little face. Nathan started marching towards the twat, still waving his finger, as the rest of them fell in line behind them. "You told them about us," Nathan growled accusingly.

The probation worker just shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Yeah," he drawled, his smirk widening.

If looks could kill, the prick would be dead six times over. Curtis took a few steps closer, glaring at him. "You sit on your arse doin' nothin' for six weeks, an' then you sell us out?"

"Yeah, it looks like that dunnit?" he replied, raising his eyebrows. "Is that ironic?"

"No it's not fucking ironic!" Izzy growled back, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Huh, isn't it?" he replied in a bored-sounding voice. "I'm never too sure."

"You're our probation worka!" Kelly shouted back. "You're supposed ta sort oz out!"

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he replied, his voice thick with condescension.

"Like you give a shit!" Alisha spat angrily.

The probation worker squinted at her words and nodded. "That's a good point," he said, shooting them all a wink. "Later." He spun around on his heels and began to march out the back.

"Where are you goin'?" Curtis shouted at his back.

"Antigua!" he called out over his shoulder. "So this is goodbye, so long, and fuck off."

"Wanka!" Kelly screamed out, but the door he had marched through was already closing behind him. As the sound of the latch closing rang throughout the room, the lot of them moved together instinctively, forming a huddle. It was becoming a habit of there's really. Huddle up and strategize.

"I'm actually quite surprised that it hasn't happened sooner," Nathan blurted out. "We haven't really been that careful."

Izzy sighed and shook her head. "Not helpful, Nathan."

"Since when have I ever been helpful?!"

"What are they going to do to us?" Alisha asked in a weak, tremulous, looking to Simon for answers.

"They'll treat us like freaks," Simon said with a sort of eager, honest fear. And Alisha was nodding along with an earnestness Izzy still kept forgetting to expect. "They'll lock us in a secret military facility and conduct experiments on us!"

"Hey, noone's experimentin' on me," Nathan interjected. "I'm not a monkey."

"Hey, hey, hey," Izzy said in a placating tone, holding her hands out and gesturing for them all to calm down. "Nobody is experimenting on anyone. Let's not go counting chickens before the fetuses have been genetically altered. With those news crews outside they can't just lock us up. People would notice we were gone—there would be too many questions."

"Wot are we goin' ta do?" Kelly asked, looking at each of them for answers.

"We have to go into hiding," Simon said quickly, like he'd had the response on the tip of his tongue. "We assume new identities, we break off all connection with our family and friends, we wear disguises and only go out after dark."

Curtis looked at Simon like he was absolutely mental. Which he kind of was. "I'm not lovin' the sound of that," he spat.

"Yeah," Nathan piped up, "do you expect me never to see my mum again? Who's gonna do my washin', huh? You have not thought this through."

"Nobody's turning into a mole person!" Izzy bit out, stamping her foot in frustration. "Simon, I realize this might be a sort of nerd fantasy moment for you, being on the run and all that, but let's be at least a little realistic like that. We're not going to be living in the sewers."

Simon started smoothing down his hair and shook his head. "They probably already know our addresses."

Nathan scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. "Well I'm all good then seein' as I'm homeless."

"They know where your parents live!" Simon returned aggressively. "By now they know everything about us! We need to get out of here now!"

A tense moment built up between them. The silence was almost humming at them, the air was so thick with uncertainty. And then there was the sound of a door clicking shut.

"There is an alternative."

The six of them bolted upright and turned to face the main entrance to find a lone woman standing there, staring at them. Izzy narrowed her eyes at the woman and took in her appearance. Dark hair, excellent posture, power suit, calm expression. She was the only one of that crowd of people who plucked up the courage to go in the community center and confront the young offenders with superpowers. And as she looked at them evenly and even expectantly. Which meant she thought she had something to offer—something they needed.

"Who are you?" Alisha asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

The woman walked towards the group, looking each of the up and down like she was mentally measuring their worth. "I'm the person who can make it so you don't have to go into hiding," she said quietly. "And if this is handled right, you're all making some serious money."

There was an immediate change in the atmosphere. The stakes had been raised. Izzy took a second look at the woman and a wave of realization hit her. She had seen that woman before. She was standing next to the milk guy in that broadcast Simon had shown them. "We're going to need a minute," Izzy said, still staring suspiciously at the woman. "Alone."

The six of them formed the second huddle of the day.

Nathan looked at them with a wide smirk, clapping his hands and rubbing them together eagerly. "Well boys and girls, it looks like Christmas has come early!"

"Woah, woah, woah," Izzy hissed, "let's not just jump into this without thinking about it."

Nathan let out a spluttering laugh. "What the fuck is there to think about? 'Serious money' doesn't require all that much thinkin' over, does it?"

"No," Simon interjected quietly, shaking his head. "This isn't why we got our powers."

"No, there is no 'why'," Nathan barreled on. "There's only 'what'. Like what are we gonna spend all out money on! What's with the two of you and all the thinkin'?"

"None of us even know what we're doin' after we finish better than signin' on," Curtis added.

"I've got the garage," Izzy mumbled to herself.

"Right, 'cause that's the better option," Curtis hissed back.

"Wot about the people killed?" Kelly asked.

"Yeah!" Izzy whispered, eagerly latching onto that line of conversation. "What about that? We don't need any media attention. If they start digging into our pasts, they're going to find a couple of stiffs, and then we're going to get thrown in prison. Job done. We're not doing it."

"Well…." Alisha hedged, "maybe we should ask her about that."

All of the sudden everyone but her and Simon turned to face the woman. "Wait a second!" Izzy hissed. "What's happening right now?"

"Now I'm not saying we have," Nathan called out to the woman in a voice that said they most certainly had, "but what would happen—hypothetically speaking—if it came to light that we may have killed one or two people? Probation workers and such, nobody important."

"Are you serious?" Izzy snapped. "Are you fucking serious right now?"

But noone paid her any mind. All eyes were focused on the woman as she ruminated over what had been said. Nine seconds. It took nine seconds for that woman to learn that they had done, and come up with a way to spin it. And Izzy decided in that moment that she did not like her. It probably seemed counterintuitive for someone for someone who had been complicit in two murders to claim the moral high ground, but she was planting her flag there anyway.

"I would say," she drew out, thinking about the dilemma, "that these people you may or may not have killed were evil. You were protecting society. You're not murderers. You're heroes– superheroes. Rich, famous superheroes… And if that doesn't work, we vanish the bodies and pay off the relatives."

Well as morally bankrupt as the woman seemed to be, she was clever. And impressive.

"Good answer," Nathan said, smiling widely.

"Sign us up," Curtis added, followed by a round of nods.

Simon was the one other one who seemed hesitant. Though it was probably for different reasons than her own. "You're making a mistake," he bit out, glowering at the woman.

Alisha rounded on Simon with a pleading expression on her face. "We should stick together," she pressed, making him look at her.

"Just do it wiv oz," Kelly pressed.

Simon's jaw twitched as he looked at them all poignantly. "This will change everything." His eyes finally fell on Izzy, fixing her with a burning stare.

"Hey, you don't have to go looking at me like that," she said throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm out too."

All of their heads snapped around to look at her, Nathan's the most violently. She thought she could actually hear a crack. And then he stared at her with something beyond disbelief. Maybe it was disappointment. "What? You're sidin' with Barry over this?" he spluttered. "How can you pass on this? Fame? Money? What's not to love? You can't honestly be buyin' into this whole 'our powers are sacred' bollocks."

"No, I'm not. Sorry Simon, but it's got nothing to do with that."

"Then what the fuck's the problem?"

"That!" she said, gesturing violently at the reporters behind the door. "I have not interest in that. I don't want to be part of this media circus bullshit they've got going on, to have somebody schedule my life telling me what to do and when to do it. No thank you. I'd rather work in the garage with Max."

"Seriously?" Alisha prodded, raising her eyebrows skeptically. "You prefer bein' up to your elbows in motor oil and stinkin' of petrol to nice clothes, feather beds and all that shit."

Izzy pressed her lips together and nodded. "Afraid so."

Nathan blinked and gave her a funny look. "You're not expectin' me t—"

"No," she said, shaking her head quickly. "No, of course not. I'd never presume to deny the world Nathan Young." She stepped towards him and rose on her tiptoes, snaking her hand around his neck and pulling him in for a quick kiss. Rocking back on her heels, she reached up and fixed his collar before patting him on the chest. "Go be famous. I'll call you later." Then a sly smile crossed her face. "I might even be asking you around for sex."

Nathan winced theatrically. "I don't know, love. I think my place is better than yours."

"Well then I guess you'll just have to ask me around for sex, won't you?"

Nathan's face morphed into a self-satisfied smirk. "I guess I will."

She backed away from Nathan and began walking towards the back door with Simon falling in line next to her. As they walked by, the woman held out her hand, two cards sticking out from between her index and middle fingers.

"Call me when you change your mind."

Simon just glowered at her and brushed past, but Izzy paused for a moment, considering it. After some hesitation, she reached up and plucked it from the woman's fingers. "Just in case," she whispered in a low, hostile tone.

The woman let out a condescending snort and smirked slightly. "Wise choice."

Rolling her eyes, Izzy brushed past the woman. She made her way to the locker room, quickly changed, grabbed her things, and marched to the back door of the community center to find Simon there, waiting for her, a grim expression covering his face. Somehow that expression crystallized everything, bringing it all into perspective, and suddenly Izzy was wholly certain that things were going to end very, very badly. She bit her lip and moved towards him, leaning her shoulder against the wall next to the door.

"We're doing the right thing, aren't we?" she inquired in a quiet whisper. "I mean, I know we're not doing it for the same reasons, but it isn't some giant mistake, right?"

"No," he said, smoothing his hair down again.

"Simon," she murmured, fixing him with a meaningful stare. "Whenever you smooth you're hair down like that I know you're lying. Or at least not telling me the whole truth."

His hand froze against his forehead and then he quickly jerked it away, shoving it into his pocket. Izzy raised her eyebrows at him, making him fidget. "I—I just have a very bad feeling."

Izzy sighed and rolled so that her back was against the wall. "Me too," she whispered, staring at her feet. "Me too." After a few moments she pushed herself up and folded her arms over her chest. "I guess it's time and all that. You might want to turn invisible before we make a break for it. There might be lurkers."

"What will you do?" Simon asked with concern in his voice.

Izzy smiled slightly. "I'll just be my charming self and tell them to fuck off if they don't want me to feed them their cameras."

After giving each other one last nod, Simon started to do that weird twitchy thing and vanished entirely. Then the door opened, seemingly of its own accord and stayed that way. Izzy walked through the door Simon was holding for her, muttered a quiet thanks, and strode through. She wrapped her arms around her waist as she walked, trying to make herself as small as possible. Then all of the sudden there was a loud yelp and a small, balding man holding a camera fell out of the bushes, hopping on one foot and clutching his shin. He had obviously been kicked.

"Thanks, Simon," she said through a smile.

Izzy jogged the rest of the way home, sprinted up the stairs, and slammed the door to her flat closed behind her. The first thing she grabbed was a bottle of red wine. The second was the remote. She flipped on the telly, and for once in her life turned on the news. The banner at the bottom read 'The ASBO Six' and Alisha's face covered the screen.

"_We had just found that other boy in the locker, and then Curtis grabbed hold of my hand and he was all 'I'm gonna bone you! I'm gonna shag you senseless!'"_

Then they cut to Simon opening the door and slamming it in their faces followed by Nathan popping out and doing some sort of ridiculous dance. Izzy snorted and pulled the cork out, taking a big swig directly from the bottle. She watched the entire news cycle all the way through. Her face appeared—her mugshot flashed across the screen—followed by a detailed account of what she had been done for. They did the same for all of them. Then they ran out of footage and the cycle ended. And then it started all over again.

Reaching for her phone, Izzy punched in Nathan's number. She pressed it to her ear and heard it ring and ring and ring. No answer.

"_You've reached the voicemail of whichever name I gave you. I can't be both__—"_

Izzy ended the call and threw the phone on the nearby table, probably harder than she needed to. It bounced off the wood and clattered to the ground, but she just left it there. Nathan had missed plenty of calls. And she had left plenty of messages that he didn't return. There was no reason for her to feel like this time was any different from the others, but she did. She couldn't help it. She would try again later, though. Hopefully later he would answer and everything would be fine.

Izzy took another swig from the bottle of wine and watched the broadcast as it started up again. It wasn't much longer before she heard the first car drive up. Then there was another. And another. Eventually she brought herself to look out the window. Out there on the street in front of her crappy flat were three camera crews. Shit, make that four. And they were starting to make a shitload of noise. She had turned down that woman because she hadn't wanted to be part of the media circus. For some stupid reason it hadn't occurred to her that that wasn't an option.

Grabbing her bag from the spot on her floor where she had chucked it, Izzy rooted around in it till her fingers found their way around that card the woman had given her. She held it tight between her middle and forefinger and began to tap it against the windowsill as she stared out, watching the crowd of reporters get just a little bit bigger. Shit.

Izzy moved back to the sofa and collapsed back on it so she was lying on her back with her feet dangling over the edge. Her fingers ran over that little card, feeling the texture of the paper and the slick, sticky bits where the ink was imprinted on it. Listening to the noises outside, she felt a sort of tension building up in her stomach. All that drama and it turned out Plan B—that card in her hands—might be the only plan she had.

Not that day, though. Maybe later, but not that day. She shoved the card in her pocket and stood up again, walking over to where her phone lay and scooping it up off the ground. She dialed Nathan's number again, and listened to the ringing.

_**DRAMA! Okay, so I know this chapter wasn't all that funny, but it's set up for how I'm dealing with the rest of the episode and it needed to be done. **_

_**READ THIS: Also, for this episode, I might be altering the timeline slightly. For some reason I initially thought the there was a gap of a few weeks between that first scene and them all living at the hotel. I felt like it would take a while for everything to come together like that, becoming that organized with the housing and arrangements and stuff. I am going to be holding to that in the next chapter, three weeks or so will have passed. It might be a bit AU, but it is important to how I am structuring that chapter. You are forewarned.**_

_**Please review!**_


	41. Sell Out

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to witchbaby300, Lady Shagging Godiva, and MarleyBeatles, for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

*******AUTHOR'S NOTE*****I am altering the time line a bit, putting a time gap between this chapter and the last. The action contained within this chapter takes place a little more than a month after the ASBO six are revealed. ****I felt like it would take a while for everything to come together like that, becoming that organized with the housing and arrangements and stuff. It might be a bit AU, but I needed it to suit the story. And this is fanfiction, so….**

**FIVE WEEKS LATER! Some people have seemed confused, so I need to re-iterate that this chapter takes place FIVE WEEKS AFTER THE END OF THE LAST CHAPTER! Stuff has happened in the interim. Big stuff. Relationship-altering stuff. You might need to pay attention to get it, but it's there. **

Chapter 41 – Sell Out

At least the room was nice. More than nice actually. It was well furnished, luxurious with mahogany tables and curtains Scarlett O'Hara would use to make a dress prettier than the one she had in the first place. But more than anything else, it was roomy. Hell, the entirety of her shitty old apartment could have fit into the bathroom of this place. It was neat and clean and pine forest fresh—no doubt maintained by a legion of maids—but no matter how clean it actually may have been, to Izzy it felt dirty. It felt dirty because it was the product of her turning into a massive sell-out.

It wasn't like she went willingly. Izzy had just wanted to keep her head down and stay the fuck out of it. But three weeks in, everything was going to shit. No matter how many times her power blasted those fucking photographers back into the bushes when they popped up trying to get pictures of her, they just kept appearing. Her life had turned into a never-ending game of human whack-a-mole. What the fuck was so interesting about her buying groceries? Hell, one of the magazines had even done a 'They're Just Like Us' feature with people with powers doing everyday activities like shopping and drinking coffee. She had the honor of seeing herself purchasing a box of tampons. Lovely. Anyways, when Carl the superintendent gleefully handed her that notice of eviction, there really weren't any choices left to her. She couldn't turn invisible and dodge the press like Simon could. So she fished out the card and punched in the number.

The transition was incredibly easy, actually. She had showed up on the steps of the hotel with the pathetically empty bags filled with the contents of her life, and someone had been there waiting to show her up to her room on the floor she shared with the rest of the ASBO six. Or at least the ones who had opted to be part of the dog and pony show. The first sit down with the woman had been more than a little bit awkward, for her at least. Laura was as blindingly confident as ever, sitting opposite and looking at her appraisingly and almost clinically, like she was trying to pick out every asset and every flaw.

"I'm so glad you decided to join us," she had said, crossing her ankles properly and leaning in slightly.

Izzy had quickly slouched back in her chair, adopting a posture exactly opposite to the woman in front of her. "I'm sure that you are," she had drawled out sarcastically. "Now you're just one short of a matching set."

Laura wasn't fazed by the hostility and had simply picked up the folder that was on the table next to the arm chair. Another fucking folder. "We need to find you an angle," she said flipping through the pages.

"What do you mean by 'angle'?" Izzy had asked dully. "Are you going to turn me into a Disney princess who never swears, letting birds dress her in morning and never worrying about avian flu?"

Laura raised her eyebrows and pinched her lips together a bit, coming the closest to amusement Izzy had ever seen her. "We tend to play to the characteristics a subject when coming up with sort of thing," she said, no amusement present in her voice. Izzy just stared back blankly, making the woman sigh in frustration. "Take your colleague Miss Daniels, for example. With Alisha we've decided to play up the 'glamour' angle. She'll be a sort of Daisy Buchanan to the world's Jay Gatsby. Beautiful, seductive, unattainable. Untouchable, even.

"Now you….you have assets that I can work with. You're pretty and you're slim, though you'll have to lose a few kilos if we ever want to move you into modeling with any of the more tasteful designers, and those are the only ones worth pursuing." Laura leaned in closer and her eyes flagrantly raked over Izzy, measuring her up before sitting back in her chair, clicking open the pen, and beginning to scribble notes.

"The results of you're a-levels show that you're clever," she continued, not bothering to look Izzy in the eye, "and you're witty and sarcastic, as well as hostile. I think we should play the 'misunderstood' angle. Leather jackets, dark eye makeup, we'll make you dangerous and beautiful. 'If only the world had been kinder to you,' that sort of thing."

Izzy narrowed her eyes at Laura. "I don't think I need an angle."

Laura let out a light laugh and continued to scribble down notes. "You might not need an angle," she said in a superior-sounding tone, "but the public needs one. They need to be entertained, and you need to give them a story. The girl who lost her mother at such a young age, who had to battle her way to success only to have it unjustly taken from her, all because she was trying protect a young boy's life. They'll eat it up and ask for more. And it doesn't hurt that you've been romantically entangled with Ian Galloway. Such a prominent family…it'll make you seem desirable."

Izzy felt her lip curl slightly as she looked at the woman. "You're going to pimp my life out to the media for public entertainment?"

"Yes," the woman said simply, raising her eyebrows at the girl. "Being part of the ASBO six isn't enough. You have to be able to bring more than that to the table. With your life, you might even be able to write a memoir. Or we'll have a ghost writer to it for you." The woman took in Izzy's repulsed expression and pursed her lips. "You've tried your luck without me, Miss McCallum, and you ended up here all the same. What other options do you have?"

"Fleeing the country?" Izzy muttered bitterly.

Laura just smiled in response. "Your financial records indicate that you don't have the means."

"I don't like you."

The smile just grew wider. "It's not my job to make you like me. In fact, I probably wouldn't be doing my job properly if you did. My job is to make you stacks and stacks of money."

That conversation had taken place a little over a week previously. The only thing that had kept Izzy going through it was the mental image of a small bed in the corner of that spacious hotel room with Superman sheets, a small toy robot, and a head of messy reddish, blondish hair on the pillow. That was Allan's bed, and soon enough she was going to make sure it was serving its purpose.

Izzy sat at the hotel bar, staring into her third drink—a 'Dark & Stormy' seeing as the name was so appropriate for her mood—and stabbing absently at the ice with one of those small, red straws they always give you and you never use. It was funny that the first thing she wanted to do after going to a club was get a drink, but going to that club opening in the posh part of town had not been fun. It wasn't even supposed to be fun. It was work—her first official 'outing' since she had joined up with the group. The first day they released a video of some guy shooting at her, and her deflecting the bullets. She didn't understand what was so entertaining about it—all she had to do was stand there—but apparently it had already gotten a few million hits on youtube. Then she spent the next few days doing interviews and selling her life story to sweaty men forcing microphones in her face, now it was time for her to sell products. Or entertainment. Or whatever it was that Laura said needed selling.

This was what her life had come to. Her hair was filled with so much product she was a walking fire hazard and there was much eye makeup slathered on, her eyelids were physically heavier. They had set her up with a pair of those fake eyelashes that made her hazel eyes 'pop', but about half way through the ordeal, the glue at the edge had come undone, and now the lashes had shifted so that every time she blinked it would poke her in the eye. She would have taken them off, but she was fucking terrified. The things had been glued to her eyes for fuck's sake! Draining the last of the glass, Izzy decided she would ask Alisha to help with it. She was the only one who had decided to leave the club before Izzy had.

It wasn't really the makeup that was bothering her, though. It wasn't even all the photographs or the press events or the specials, it was how her relationships with people seemed to be changing. How her unhappiness with the situation she was put in could infect her, poison interactions, and make other people unhappy. How two people who could almost have shared a brain at one point, could just lose whatever it was that had made it that way. Whoever said 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' was peddling a giant crock of shit. Absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. Absence facilitates the disintegration of things. It was far easier to hang up a phone than it is to walk away from somebody. And the way she had been feeling all those weeks in her apartment, with cameras at the door and people in her face, she had hung up the phone more often than she should.

"You want another?" the bartender asked, catching the glass that she had slid a little ways down the bar.

"No, thank you," Izzy replied in a low voice. She stood up and slapped the cash on the table, grabbing her leather jacket—not Max's old one he had given her, the one that smelled of motor oil, cheap cigars, and bourbon, but that new Gucci number that felt tight on her arms and wouldn't give her a full range of motion. That jacket didn't smell of anything at all.

Izzy marched to the elevator, wobbling slightly, not from the alcohol—her tolerance was far too high for that—but from the ensemble Laura and her minions had shoved her in. Apparently the 'misunderstood' angle required that she dress like a biker chick, but with absolutely no authenticity. They had traded faded, ripped jeans for dark, slim-fit jeans, combat boots for ones with high, skinny heels, and for some reason had put her in a mess of silver necklaces. It was worse than the superhero costume. Hell, it felt more like a costume than that spandex number had. She felt tight, contained, and uncomfortable. As she arrived at the gold doors to the lift, she punched the 'up' button about twenty times. Like it would make the lift arrive any sooner.

Once the doors opened, Izzy practically threw herself through them. She collapsed against the far wall and leaned her head back so that she was staring at her own reflection in the mirrored ceiling. Objectively she looked good, but she didn't look like herself. She was an over-produced version of herself. Things were turning out exactly as she had expected them to. The only good thing on the horizon was that she might be getting Allan back, and that was something she was keeping far, far away from Laura and her cameras. Other than that, things were falling apart, turning into a giant pile of shit.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Izzy waited for the lift doors to close and to be taken upstairs where Alisha would work her magic and turn her back into a 'real girl', not a fucking Barbie doll. There was so much shit on her face she actually felt plastic. And then, just as the doors started to slide shut, she heard someone call out in a lilting Irish accent.

"Hold the fuckin' elevator!"

A disembodied hand suddenly appeared, sandwiched between the two doors, and then they slowly opened again, revealing the face of one of those things in her life that had fallen into shit.

When Nathan saw her, his jaw dropped and gaped at her a bit, his eyes darting around frantically like an animal trying to escape. But he couldn't, seeing as he had two generically hot blondes and a rather uniquely hot brunette clinging to him-the three reasons she had bailed on the club so early. Izzy bit the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She didn't say anything, though. She was good at not saying anything.

"Hey, Ginger!" he said with a sort of forced levity, leaning into the awkwardness of the situation. "How's it goin'?"

Izzy put on a forced smile, let out a light snort, and shrugged her shoulders. "Can't complain." He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do in the situation until the lift doors started closing again. Izzy just rolled her eyes in that impassive way she had perfected years ago. "Are you going up or what? Get in the fucking lift."

Without saying anything else he stumbled in, the three girls in toe and stood there humming. When the doors shut, his eyes widened like the walls were closing in on him. Which technically they were. Izzy rolled her eyes again, ignoring the hollow feeling gnawing at the pit of her stomach, and turned in the small party's direction. "So are you going to introduce me to your harem or what?"

"Right!" he said, snapping his fingers and pointing at her. "Ginger, meet Brittany and Christina," he rambled, gesturing between the two blondes, "and this one here is….."

"Ginger," the brunette supplied.

"No, no, no," Nathan whispered turning to his new friend. "Her name's Izzy. I just call her Ginger 'cause of, you know, the hair."

The brunette turned to him, looking mildly scandalized. "I was talking about my name. I'm called Ginger."

Izzy couldn't help but let out a snort, trying her best to hide it behind her hand. It wasn't one of her usual snorts though, it was tinged with bitterness. The rest of the elevator ride was quiet. Izzy stared straight in front of her, trying to ignore the situation, to pretend she wasn't there, willing herself to not be witnessing this. On the outside she kept it together, like she always did. Or like she usually did. In reality, though, she was counting the seconds.

But out of the corner of her eye she could see Nathan continually glancing between her and the floor number, clearly eager to get out of this situation. She probably shouldn't have, but Izzy found his discomfort….satisfying. Did that make her vindictive? It definitely made her a bitch. But she was glad to know that she wasn't the only one suffering a little bit here.

When the lift finally came to a stop and opened on their floor, Nathan and his 'female company' piled out, stumbling down the hallway with girlish giggles. But for some reason, Nathan kept glancing at her over his shoulder. Stepping out of the lift herself, Izzy bit her lip and shook her head.

"Hey, Nathan!" she called out after him. He skidded to a complete stop and slowly turned around, a wince etched into his features. He was probably expecting her to cry or yell at him or something, but instead she flashed him a jovial smirk. "Two condoms this time." She shot him a wink. "Belts and braces."

The wince on Nathan's face morphed into an expression of surprise and confusion, with a little bit of sadness mixed in as well, though that last one might have been her imagination. "I'll take that under advisement, Ginger!" he said, giving her the thumbs up. And then he spun around on his heels and jogged down the hall towards his room, slamming the door behind him, but not before a screech of giggles reached Izzy's ears.

As soon as Nathan turned his back to her, the smirk fell from Izzy's face and was replaced by something else. If someone asked her what it was, she wouldn't be able to say. Regret, that's what it was. Not that pointed kind that makes you ache inside-that had faded a little bit over the time since they ended it-but just a general feeling. Neither of them had really done anything wrong. They were in different places, wanted different things. Nathan was suddenly in a sea of fit women who were more than happy to screw his brains out while Izzy was off on her own, trying to deal with her own personal shit and moping around like moodiest character in a daytime soap opera. To say that whatever they had ended would be a lie, because there was no definitive action or event that brought everything to a close. No, it was more like a disintegration. Neither of them were happy, so they both agreed to walk away. The feelings were still there, they just hadn't been able to keep them together. Izzy chalked it up to bad timing. But just because there was nobody to blame, didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

Izzy missed Nathan. She missed being around him, she missed the shenanigans, she missed his snarky, inappropriate comments. It's not like they never saw each other anymore, but the nature of their relationship had changed. Whenever the other was near, their walls were up, higher than ever before, which was saying a lot for them. But they had been friends before and Izzy hoped they could be friends again. She missed the twat. And, if she was being honest, she really, really wanted to kiss him again.

Walking past her own door, Izzy came to a stop in front of Alisha's and rapped her knuckles against the door. After a few moments, it swung open. Alisha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "What do you want?"

Izzy laughed lightly and scratched at the back of her neck awkwardly. "What would you say to getting drunk, eating a shitload of ice cream, and watching girly movies till we pass out?"

Right at that moment there was a loud, giggly shriek from down the hall that made Izzy wrinkle her nose. Alisha looked at Izzy and then down hall. Then she stepped out of the door way. "That sounds perfect."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Meetings. That was another reason that Izzy hated this new bullshit 'career' of hers. So many fucking meetings. Strategizing, syncing their watches, all that kind of stuff. Because all the press events involving the ASBO six minus one had to maintain a unified front. Oh, well. At least there were canapés. But as if the universe felt that that wasn't enough torture, the rest of them were stuck there, waiting for Nathan to arrive in all of his post-coital glory. After about ten minutes and an untold number of eye rolls and glances at watches, he burst through the door whistling and doing a little dance, that small degree of nervousness he had displayed the previous night nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry I'm late!" he said cheerfully. "I was just enjoyin' the fruits of our newfound fame and celebrity and my newfound independence! And you know I'm not talkin' about fruit—"

"We all know you're not talking about fruit Nathan," Izzy said, raising her eyebrows at him. "You're nowhere near health conscious enough to bring up fruit without it being part of a sexual innuendo."

"Hey, I could be talkin' about fruit," he returned, pointing an accusing finger at her. Then a conspiratorial smirk broke out on his face. "In this case I'm not, though. In this case fruit is a couple of lovely ladies. Although you should see the size of my fruit bowl…..massive."

"Again," Izzy replied rolling her eyes, "we all know you're not talking about an actual fruit bowl. Your metaphors require more subtlety."

"Did ya shag those skanky girls?" Kelly demanded, curling her lip in disgust.

"I most certainly did!" Nathan said excitedly, popping one of the snacks in his mouth. "Lovin' the canapés!"

Izzy felt a few sets of eyes flicker in her direction, waiting for some sort of response. She was not in the mood to indulge in some sort of weepy, emotional catharsis. Did it sting a bit? Sure. Was she going to let anybody else know that it did? No fucking way. No, she was going to double down. "So that's what, a four-way?" she asked casually, raising her eyebrows again. "You've been inducted into a very special club, my friend." She stood up from her seat and held out a hand for a high-five before collapsing back into her seat. "The number of people who are both sexually depraved and successful enough to pull something like that off are few and far between. You're like Mick Jagger without the talent."

Nathan looked up at her with a theatrically emotional expression on his face. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"That's because nobody likes you," she replied, smirking a bit.

"On the topic of sexual depravity," Laura broke in, giving them all poignant, admonishing looks, "I'd like to return to a topic I brought up when the rest of you first joined us. If there is something you don't want to see in the papers, tell me now so I can deal with it."

"Everythin' about me's already been in the papers," Curtis muttered bitterly.

"I don't want anything about me in the papers," Izzy replied shortly. "But that cat's got out of the bag and went to a photo op, didn't it?"

Laura sighed heavily. "Is there anything specific that you feel would be detrimental to you if it got out. For example, do your ex-boyfriends have any intimate photographs or videos of you?"

"I deleted mine of Alisha," Curtis said, his mouth full.

"Nothing to worry about on my front," Izzy said, grabbing one of the canapés for herself and nibbling on it.

"Yeah, why is that?" Nathan demanded, rounding on her. "How come Curtis gets titty shots and I'm just stuck with the memories?"

"Memories of my mammaries?" Izzy asked, snorting lightly.

"Yeah!" Nathan barreled on. "I mean, we all know I'm not good at rememberin' shit. I think I should get one or two souvenirs."

Izzy looked at him like he was insane. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? There was no way I'd trust you with naked pictures. You'd probably text one of them to your entire address book with the caption 'who are you doing tonight'? I would have put parental controls on your computer if you actually owned one."

"Right," Laura said loudly, trying to bring their attention back to the task at hand. "Is there anything else I need to know? Anything that you forgot the last time?"

There was a moment of quiet, but then Nathan raised his hand. Laura looked over at him and nodded for him to continue. Nathan leaned forwards a bit and arranged his features into a repentant look, which to Izzy could only mean one thing. It was time for a dirty story that would either end in laughter or vomit. Or both. "I just remembered…right before I started my community service," Nathan started, wincing slightly, "there was an incident with this girl."

"What kind of incident?" Laura prompted.

"Right," he mumbled quietly. I picked her up in this dentist's waiting room–she was havin' some kind of oral surgery–" Curtis was already covering his face "—so we go out, a few drinks, couple o' kebabs, alright, and then it's straight back to her place and start with the shaggin'. And I've built up a nice rhythm, and I'm gettin' really close to blowing my load–just hovering in the pleasure zone–and then bam! All hell breaks loose. I tripled myself."

Laura, and the rest of them, stared at him blankly. "I—I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that term," she stuttered slightly. Finally, a stutter. Some proof that she wasn't actually a robot. For a second there Izzy was worried that Skynet had become self-aware and was sending out sleeper agents to prepare for the takeover. Meanwhile, Nathan was glancing around at them, looking for some sort of confirmation that never came.

"You know, triplin'," he said prodding them, still with no response. "It's when you cum, puke, and shit yourself all at the same time."

There was a chorus of groans and gags. "For fock's sake," Kelly said, grimacing heavily.

"Ugh," Izzy gagged, "you're making me regret my life choices more than usual."

"Three bodily functions," Nathan continued, ignoring them, "doin' the triple." He turned to Curtis and gave him a confrontational look. "You're sayin' that's never happened to you?" he demanded, pointing at the other bloke.

"No!"

"Anyway, I lied about my name, so she probably doesn't even remember me."

"I don't think she's ever forgettin' you," Alisha said, wrinkling her nose.

Laura—the unflappable, confident, possibly robotic Laura—took a moment to compose herself. "Anyone else."

"Uh…I shagged a monkey," Kelly deadpanned.

Then something in Laura snapped. Eyes wide and unbelieving, she let out a single short breath.

"Technically it was a gorilla," Nathan tacked on.

Izzy sighed and wiped at the corner of her eyes. "And I keep thinking that my life is fucked up." Laura didn't move for a few moments, making Izzy narrow her eyes at the woman suspiciously. "I think we broke her."

"A—alright," Laura managed to stutter out, recovering herself. "I'll do my best to contain those stories, but for now let's focus on the task at hand. First order of business, we'll want to play up the relationship between Curtis and that girl that can teleport—Nikki. Two superheroes in love, the press will eat it up."

"Uh, we're not exactly in love," Curtis said, glancing at Alisha self-consciously. "Not yet anyway."

"Noone cares," Laura continued, waving her hand dismissively. "Next order of business—Miss McCallum I'd like to give more publicity to your relationship with Ian Galloway. His family owns a marketing firm that deals directly with a great number of investors we'd like to acquire."

Izzy froze for a moment, a canapé poised to be placed in her mouth. Was the conference room suddenly invaded by crickets? She could swear she heard crickets. And she could feel everybody's eyes on her. Nathan's stare was boring a pair of holes into her skin. She cleared her throat and slowly put the canapé back down on the plate in front of her.

"I'm not in a relationship with Ian," she said folding her arms across her chest and collapsing against the chair back behind her. "I haven't been since I was eighteen."

Laura raised a single questioning eyebrow at her. "Really."

"Yes!"

"But you have been seeing more of him lately," the woman prodded, "or do you deny that you've called him several times from the hotel telephone. And I hope you can gather from the intonation of my voice that I already know the answer is yes." Izzy tightened her arms around her waist and continued to glare at the woman. "We have also intercepted photos of you meeting before you came to us from various other reporters. We wanted to hold off on revealing the association until it was most beneficial."

Izzy sighed heavily and scratched at her forehead. "Fine," bit out in a hostile tone. "Fine, I've been spending more time with him but we're not together—we've never…..He's….helping me with something."

If there was something Izzy hated, it was being the object of scrutiny, and now the agony was two-fold. First there was the fact that everybody in the room was staring at her. Second, she just found out Laura had been monitoring her every fucking move.

"Yes," Laura said with a knowing smile. "I am already aware of your attempts to gain custody of Allan Pacey. Since I learned of your efforts, I've had our legal team working on it, and I have some good news. It seems that with a little more paperwork and some sworn testimony to the incompetence of his current guardians, he will be back with you in a week. We're already arranging a press conference so that your reunion may be broadcast live. I'm hoping to ensure that Ian will be there as well."

Both fire and ice ran through her veins as she seethed with anger. "No," she spat angrily. "No, Allan is not becoming part of this media bullshit. He's just a kid. There's no way I—"

"Well in that case, I suppose I'll have our legal team rip up the paper work and you can start from scratch. I suppose that means you would have to spend more time with Mr. Galloway."

That was all the woman had to say. After she was done she just sat there, looking at Izzy with a superior smirk. Izzy glanced in Nathan's direction, and as soon as she made eye contact with him, he looked away with an expression something akin to betrayal. Not that he had the right to wear that expression. But once again Izzy was acutely aware of everything she had lost.

**Don't hate me! If I'm sticking with the plot and the Daisy stuff, I needed them to break up, which is why I lengthened the time line. I also didn't want a super-dramatic break up. I also didn't want him to cheat, so I figured mutual parting of ways (from Izzy's perspective). I also wanted to do some Alisha/Izzy breakup bonding and I REALLY wanted to bring Ian back. I liked his character a lot, but he didn't fit into most of the story. I figured this way I could write him some more with no lasting damage.**

**Also, the breakup will be dealt with in a future chapter, as a flashback. People have said this looks OOC, and it is a bit, but remember this is told from Izzy's perspective. She was miserable and she felt like that misery was rubbing off on everyone else and making them unhappy, but she is a heavily flawed character. People can seem OOC when they are put into situations they've never been in before, because they might react to it differently.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I'm getting so close to 300…if I could get there with this chapter, I would be so, so, SO happy. Seriously guys, how about some love. I've been working hard on this fic. And to those of you who review regularly, you know how much it means to me. Thank you.**


	42. Breaking Point

**And a big thank you to Guest, Phaex, LittleGee, Adela, Lady Shagging Godiva, and Becca for reviewing.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I want to apologize again for the confusion over the last chapter and the time jump. I hope that everything was straightened out and that you guys enjoyed the chapter (in retrospect). I'm sorry that some of you didn't like the way I handled the ending of the relationship and said that Izzy seemed indifferent. I kind of wish I had written all the chapters and posted them at once. She keeps it together in front of people, and may even convince herself she's okay, but she's a mess on the inside. I hope that comes out in this chapter. Anyways, I'm a bit of a perfectionist, but I guess I have to realize I can't please everybody. I'll keep trying, though.  
**

Chapter 42 – Breaking Point

It had gotten worse. She had thought it absolutely impossible, but it had gotten worse. Izzy had stormed out of that meeting, practically running back to her room, and slammed the door behind her like a teenager having a fit. She had had enough. Enough of everything. She had spent the past week trying to keep herself together, trying to stay composed, to stay reasonable, to keep her cool. She had smiled for the cameras, she had smiled at the girls Nathan brought back to his hotel room, she had done her level best to seem like a normal, functional human being and not to give in to that despair that had been creeping in on her. Hell, for a second there she had almost managed to convince herself that she wasn't falling apart on the inside. But was eating at her like rust eats at metal. It starts out slow and quiet, and then the metal gives and the structure collapses into a giant heap. Allan was the last straw. There had been one last thing she was hanging onto—one last good, pure thing—and now that had been tainted as well.

Her life was one massive PR stunt. She wasn't cut out for this kind of shit. She wasn't Nathan. He reveled in it, being the center of attention, having his picture taken, people shouting his name—that much was evident right from the start with the little dance he did for the camera. Her, on the other hand, she couldn't stand it. Every smile, every joke, every laugh felt like it was fake—she felt fake. He was having the time of his life and she was off moping in a corner, bringing him down. Izzy the human wet blanket. She wanted him to be happy, and she wasn't part of that equation any more. He was better off—she knew he was—but that didn't mean she didn't still want him. One thing she was sure of, though, was that she didn't want him at his own expense. So she let him go, the beautiful, unique butterfly that he was. Who was she to deny the world Nathan Young?

Izzy pulled at her hair slightly and let out a small scream, desperate to release some of the frustration that was building up inside her. She turned towards the giant mirror that covered the door to her bathroom, throwing a pillow at her own reflection and seething. Cold, serene Izzy who could make jokes, congratulate Nathan on four-somes, and pretend that everything was just fine—the Izzy that existed outside the walls of that room—was gone. All that was left was the tired, broken girl she kept so well hidden from everybody else. They all knew she was unhappy—the bitter silences and the constant presence of a drink in her hand were evidence enough of that—but none of them knew just how much she was fraying at the edges.

Reaching down to the sofa, Izzy grabbed another pillow to throw, but this time when she faced her reflection, there was someone else standing behind her. "Jesus fucking Christ, Simon!" she shouted, spinning around and throwing the pillow at him instead. "How many times have I told you not to do that?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, picking the pillow up and putting it on the pillow and patting it slightly to fluff it back into its intended appearance. "I stole a key from one of the maids and let myself in. Is that alright?"

"That's fine," Izzy said through a sigh, waving her hand absently. She walked over to the sofa and collapsed into the plush cushions, tucking her feet up under her. "I've been wondering what happened to you since I caved and joined the three-ringed circus they've got going on here. What are you doing here?"

"After your landlord evicted you, I went back to stay with my parents, but they were still freaking out about the invisible thing, so I came here to stay with Nathan," he said, sitting down next to her. "I never properly thanked you for letting me sleep on your couch, so…..thanks."

Izzy let out a light laugh. "Hey, it was no problem, man," she said, punching him in the shoulder. "It was an excuse for shitloads of movie marathons and you being there meant I wasn't drinking alone. Not that I've ever really had a problem with that before. Or now. Maybe I have alcohol dependency issues."

A silence fell over the two and Simon began to look at her with those weirdly penetrating eyes of his. It made her feel like she was under a microscope, even more so than when those cameras were flashing in her face. "Are you alright, Izzy?" he asked in a soft voice, leaning in slightly.

"Of course I am," she responded quickly. It was reflex for her, 'being alright'. At this point she could 'be alright' practically on command. But Simon could see straight through it. He was a perceptive little bugger. Though he didn't need to be particularly perceptive to pick up on that fit she threw the minute she closed the door. "Fine," Izzy bit out. "I'm not alright. I am so far from fine alright now…." She drove her hands into her hair and pulled at her hair again. "I'm a fucking mess, Simon. I hate this place, I hate that woman, I hate the photographers. I hate the clothes, the makeup, the parties, the events. Hell, I even hate this room—this fucking beautiful hotel room—because it's the product of all that. And I've started hating myself for becoming a part of it."

Izzy paused for a moment to recover from her outburst, taking deep gulping breaths. Simon placed a tentative, comforting hand on her shoulder. He fixed her with a look so sympathetic and so understanding. Jesus, she was going to blurt it all out. It was like the words were forcing their way out of her throat.

"And he—he loves this. You've seen how he gets in front of the cameras—he was born for this shit! He loves it, and it's something that I just can't be a part of. When I'm here I just want to be up to my elbows in motor oil or even picking up litter. I never want to be here, and I'd just ruin in for him….I know that I'm the one that…." She groaned loudly and ran her hands down her face. "Jesus fucking Christ, Simon, I feel like I'm cracking down the middle. There's nothing for me here, but I've got nowhere else to go."

Simon rubbed small, comforting circles on her back in that awkward, stilted way of his. All those weeks of him crashing on her couch, they had gotten a lot more comfortable around each other, but he was still a twitchy little bugger. In the best possible way, of course. "What about Allan?" he asked quietly. "I thought you and Ian were starting to get close to getting him back. You said that meeting with the lawyer he set you up with went well. When he's here there'll be something for you."

Izzy let out a hysterical giggle. "Yeah," she rasped out, her voice cracking a little. "Yeah, he's turning into the next PR stunt. Hence me devolving into a blubbering mess. In fairness nobody was supposed to be here right now. This was supposed to mean my own personal breakdown."

Simon blinked and furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you talking about? Ian didn't—"

"No, Jesus, no," Izzy said, running a hand through her hair. "No he didn't say anything. Apparently Laura's been running reconnaissance, found out about it, and decided to take over the cause. It might make it happen sooner, but he'll be dragged into this as well. He doesn't do well with crowds, and all the flashing lights….not good for people prone to seizures. I don't want to put him under that sort of stress. I've started wondering if I'm the best thing for him at this point."

"So what are you going to do?"

Izzy sighed and turned to look him in the eye. "I really don't know. I've fucked everything else up so badly. It's like I was that guy on the Titanic who saw the tip of that iceberg and said 'no problem, we'll deal with that later.' Then the people start dying and shit."

"You're not that guy," he muttered quietly. "You did everything right with the lawyers."

"It didn't make a difference, though," she sighed out, rubbing at her forehead. "I guess I'll just have to grit my teeth and get through it."

Simon scooted over a bit and put a hand around her shoulder, pulling her into an awkward, one-armed hug. "Have you tried talking to Nathan?"

Izzy let a single, loud, hysterical laugh and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Are you kidding me? He doesn't—he's got other things on his mind and in his bed. I don't want to harsh his buzz or whatever. I've gotten really good at that lately."

At the mention of the other girls—well not so much a mention as an implication—Simon twitched slightly and his arm tightened a little bit around her. But Izzy shrugged it away and stood up, turning away from him so that she could wipe at her eyes. She didn't deserve sympathy because the things that were bothering her were more her fault than anything else. Things between her and Nathan, they weren't good, and that was because of her. They could have dragged it out and let it become something let it fester and die a slow, painful death, but that wouldn't have been good for either of them. She saw the writing on the wall, and she said it out loud.

"So have you visited Alisha yet?" she asked suddenly, partly to change the subject and partly to figure out whatever the hell it was that was going on in that area of the soap opera that their life had become. Simon gave her a strange look and shook his head. "No. Why would I go visit her?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging casually. "I just thought the two of you were getting along better. Didn't you lend her that 'Echo and the Bunnymen' before? I just thought, I don't know, that you were becoming friends or whatever."

"I—I don't know," he said, getting a bit flustered. "I haven't seen her since she left for here." His eyes flickered between her and the fruit bowl on the table in front of him—an actual bowl of fruit—and shifted uncomfortably like he was looking for the right words to say.

"Do want to watch me turn invisible and throw water balloons at reporters again?" he asked, a hopeful expression crossing his face. A genuine smile broke out over Izzy's face—the first one in over a week. "Simon, in this moment there is nothing I would love more than that, but it's a no-go. Laura set up some bullshit cocktail luncheon thing with a bunch of investors and sponsors. Hair and makeup usually takes upwards of an hour. You can stay as long as you want—raid the mini-fridge, jump on the bed, watch DVDs. Me casa es su casa."

He nodded slightly. "Have fun, then."

"Right," she said through a skeptical laugh, turning to the mirror. She slapped her own cheeks to snap herself into awareness and put the pieces of her mixed-up brain back in place. "Time to put the game face on."

Then she smiled widely at the mirror. It almost looked real.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Mingling. The sound of the word alone was repugnant to Izzy. It left a bad taste in her mouth. But the word was nothing in comparison to actually being forced to do the deed. All of the smiling and the nodding and the innocuous conversation that served absolutely no purpose whatsoever. Well it did, actually, but the purpose was the one topic not up for discussion. That sort of inherent agenda was something Izzy didn't want to deal with. Everybody was aware of it, but nobody dared mention it.

There was a soft ding when the lift hit the bottom floor, and the doors opened to reveal the hotel bar. Unlike the previous night, the room was teeming with people chatting and grinning at each other, not people looking for the answers to their problems at the bottom of a glass. Izzy stepped off the lift and pulled at the hem of her shorts. She wasn't used to her legs being that bare and her skin missed the comfort of those soft, warm jeans. Laura's team had put her in a pair of black high-waisted shorts with a white, low-cut top tucked into it, a cropped black leather jacket, and a pair of high-heeled black ankle boots. She really didn't understand why they kept putting her in those heels. They only ever made her trip. Still, she strode into the hotel bar with as much coordination as she could muster.

Izzy's scalp itched like a son of a bitch. That was the one thought running through her head as she walked into the room. It wasn't particularly painful, she was just so goddamn aware of it. Her hair had been pulled back into an insanely tight ponytail—so tight she felt like the skin of her forehead had been pulled back and forcing her eyebrows into a kind of sarcastic expression, keeping them artificially raised as the looked at the world around her. To be fair she probably would be doing that anyway, but she really would rather have been given a choice in the matter. It now occurred to her that the hair was oddly similar to how Kelly would style her own. Apparently the difference between a chav hairstyle and a fashion-forward one is whether or not it has been done by someone with an ironic eyebrow piercing, tight trousers, and a Gucci T-shirt with lavender-scented hair products.

The hotel bar where the event was being held looked quite a bit different than it did at night. It was so bright and cheerful and professional. She almost missed that bloke in the corner who laughed hysterically into his glass every once in a while. It made her feel like there was someone in the world less crazy than she was. To be fair, most of the people at the mixer were probably just as crazy as she was. They just hid it better.

Izzy already knew what her first stop would be. She walked towards the bar and drummed her fingers on the wood until a smiling barman appeared. Jesus, he had freakishly white teeth. "Champagne?" he asked politely.

"Yeah, not yet mate," Izzy said through a snort. "I'll have two shots of whiskey, please."

The barman gave her a funny look and placed two small shot glasses on the counter before grabbing a bottle and filling them up with that sweet, sweet amber liquid. Izzy sighed heavily before grabbing one glass and pouring it down her throat, following it with the second moments afterwards. The barman shot her a slightly judgmental look as she slammed the second glass on the counter, and she returned it with a beatific smile.

"I think I'll take that glass of champagne now."

He exhaled loudly and grabbed one of the tall flutes, giving her a funny look as he did so. This bar had seriously poor service. Don't question the guest, wasn't that the first rule of customer service? Oh, well. It's not like she gave a shit.

"All the way up," she said, smirking as he poured. "Thanks."

Izzy spun around and leaned her back against the bar, watching all the people. Was she glowering? Yeah, she was probably glowering. But that was the benefit of being the one assigned the 'misunderstood' angle. Looking pissed off and closed off played right into it. Which was good for her since she didn't have many other motivations at the moment.

Spotting her fellow ASBO shitheads, Izzy strolled in their direction. They were all appropriately dressed for the occasions. Alisha and Kelly were wearing dresses and had their hair and makeup perfectly applied as she was sure hers was. She hadn't bothered looking in the mirror after the stylists had finished with her. Curtis was wearing a fancy track suit which seemed a little too on the nose given his profile, but then again the media was never exactly known for their subtlety. Nathan on the other hand was dressed fairly typical of himself, but with clothing massively more expensive than the stuff he used to wear. Maybe it was the labels that got three girls in his bed all that once. No, no, she couldn't think like that. It wasn't her business—not anymore—and she was the one who had made sure of that. Good for him. That was the general approach she would be taking to this whole thing.

"Hey," she said brightly, lifting her glass in their direction. "How are you fine folks doing this lovely afternoon?"

"Wot's up wiv you?" Kelly said, looking her up and down. "Why are ya all smilin' and shit?"

"Maybe it's just a beautiful day," Izzy replied, taking a giant sip from her champagne. "Sun shining, birds chirping, all that Disney crap."

"Are you on somethin'?" Curtis said, eyeing her curiously.

"Yeah, Curtis," she drawled out sarcastically. "I'm high on life. And possibly the fumes from the hair spray."

"Right….." he muttered, looking at her strangely. "Is anyone else seriously fuckin' weirded out by this shit?"

"I don't know," Nathan said, smiling broadly. "I was gettin' a bit tired of all that girly PMS-y shit. All that slouchin', it really wasn't doin' her tits any justice. They should be standin' proud and free!" He leaned in slightly and waved. "Hello old friends. Nice to see you again."

Izzy rolled her eyes and took another sip of her champagne. "They say hello as well," she said, hiding her smile behind the glass. "Just don't go expecting a handshake."

"Well it wouldn't be a proper greeting without one!"

Somehow the two of them ended up staring at each other with smiles on their faces. Cue awkward stares. And the moment was over. Izzy cleared her throat and took a few small steps back from the group. What the fuck was she doing? The flirty banter was a reflex. The two of them were so good at talking about nothing, but what happened when the talking stopped? She went back to being moody weirdo who watched babies cry for fun. Alright, maybe not that weird, but still weird. Luckily enough for her, a distraction presented itself when some baby-faced guy walked over to them with a creepy little smile on his face. He looked familiar, but Izzy couldn't quite place him.

"Hi!" he said, looking between them with a tight-lipped smirk. "Good to see you."

"Oh, you're that milk guy, innit?" Curtis said, gesturing at the guy with a slight sneer.

The guy's face pinched a bit, giving him a look that was simultaneously proud, defensive, and constipated. "It's not just milk," he responded in a snobby sort of way. "It's all dairy products."

So here he was. The little fucker who was responsible for all of this shit. The one who just had to go public with his incredible little talent toppled the first domino that led to her being here. He could move milk from one glass to another. Congratulations, arsehole. She hoped it was worth it, for him at least.

"So you're here to make the coffees, then?" Nathan said snidely.

"I'm done making people coffee," the guy responded earnestly. "People make my coffee now."

Alisha let out a snort and made a face at the poor bastard. "Then what's the point of having your power?"

"Were you one of those fat kids who had milk seepin' out of his man-boobs during puberty?" Nathan asked, walking towards the guy with a wide smile on his face.

"N—no," he responded at a loss for words.

"We had a kid like that at our school," Nathan barreled on. "We used to milk him during lunch time." He started moving around the bloke like a lion at the zoo circling a massive pile of fly-covered meat, just waiting to sink its teeth in.

"I wasn't one of those kids," the bloke insisted weakly. The protest didn't do all that much, though. Within moments Nathan had his arms around the other guy and was groping his sad little man-boobs. "Get off me, what are you doing?"

"Aw, I'm milkin' you," Nathan said through a goofy smile. "This reminds me of school! That was some good times!"

"Fuck off!" the guy said, squirming until he got away from Nathan, shoving him back a few feet in the process. Nathan recovered quickly, that gleeful smile never leaving his face.

"That's what the kid at my school used to say and he had a nervous breakdown!"

Izzy wasn't proud of herself for doing so, but she couldn't help snorting a bit. She looked past Nathan, over his shoulder, and saw the milk guy staring at them all sad and angry. And then the look became a bit murderous. There had been times she wanted to kill Nathan—a lot of people probably wanted to at some time or another, and some actually did—but that look from that guy was reaching new levels of authenticity.

"I think we might have just witnessed a super villain origin story," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Please, Ginger, what's he gonna do?" Nathan said, rolling his eyes. "Spoil our milk? Spooky!"

Izzy narrowed her eyes and was fully prepared to say something rude, but someone else much more deserving of her contempt began walking in their direction.

"Nathan," Laura said casually, beckoning him over. "How would you feel about blowing you're brains out on national television tomorrow night?"

Jesus fucking Christ. The woman was just so blasé about it, living and dying. It was like she was playing chess and they were the pawns. Or it was like they were dolls that she was playing with. Or a whole manner of other potential metaphors. The gist of it was that she treated them as expendable objects and not people, the same old song, blah, blah, blah. It all ended up with Izzy wallowing again. But Nathan was going along with it. A pained, hesitant expression flitted across his face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. Izzy wanted to put a hand on his arm and tell him he didn't have to do it, but she already knew what the answer would be.

"Come on, Ginger," he would say, "I'm just givin' the people what they want. Me!" And then he would gesture at himself with the thumbs or kiss his own bicep or one of those 'self-love' gestures that he no doubt perfected over the years.

Instead she drained the remnants of her glass of champagne and headed back to the bar, smiling slightly as the warm tingling feeling began to spread through her. Finally, the first, slightest hint of a buzz. "Uno mas," she said, plopping the glass on the counter again.

"'You might want to slow down," a familiar voice said from behind her.

Izzy exhaled sharply. "You're one to judge," she replied, not turning around. "I seem to recall one night where you mainlined like sixteen tequila shots took off your trousers, threw those trousers out of the window, and insisted we play scrabble. Flurg is still not a word, by the way."

"It is in Dothraki," he said, a smirk evident in the voice. "And hey, I'm not judging, I'm performing a public service. When you get drunk you get all overly philosophical and kind of whiny. Nobody wants to be around that."

Smiling slightly, Izzy turned around to lean against the bar and found herself face-to-face with sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes. "Hello, Ian."

"Hey, Bels."

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, honestly, that's rather rude," he said in an arch tone, smirking and moving to lean against the bar next to her. "No hello, how are you, my you're looking so handsome today I'm having difficulty breathing properly in your presence."

"I said hello," Izzy replied, elbowing him in the side. "And I make it a rule not to say things you think you already know. I don't encourage delusional thoughts. Anyways, I'm not the one who's showing up all out of context. We weren't supposed to meet up again until Friday."

"That lady-robot invited me," he said, gesturing in Laura's direction. "Words like synergy and linketivity were used."

Izzy sighed heavily and took a sip from her glass. "And that sounded appealing to you?"

"No," he replied, raising his eyebrows. "Free food and booze did. And your sparkling company, of course."

"Yeah, I'm a one-woman party," she shot back sarcastically.

"I'm sorry the Allan situation didn't work out," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know you wanted to get it done quietly, keep him away from all this."

Izzy blew out a long breath. "It was ridiculous for me to even think I'd be able to manage it in the first place."

A short silence fell over the two of them, and Izzy could feel Ian looking down at her and she was hyper-aware of the presence of his hand on her shoulder. It was so strange being around him again, especially given the fundamental change in their relationship. When they were in school all those years ago there wasn't really a lead up to them being in a relationship. They met and everything seemed to fit into place at the time and then they were just...together. They were friends of course, but it was never without that other element to the relationship—the one where you hide in a closet and make out during lunch breaks—so the exclusively platonic thing was not really something either of them were familiar with. It wasn't that she still had feelings for him, because she didn't, but there was only ever one way they had behaved around each other, and that way involved the holding of hands. That wasn't something that she had thought about when she called him two weeks ago, asking for his help with Allan. But then again, even if she had known about the weird unspoken tension she would have called him anyway. He was the only person she knew who could possibly have helped her.

"By the way, I got you something," Ian said suddenly, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a squashed, poorly wrapped package and handing it to Izzy. She took it furrowing her eyebrows in confusion as she spun it around in her hands. "What is this for?" she asked, tearing at the paper.

Ian let out a loud snort and shook his head. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, rolling his eyes at her. "I know that you haven't exactly been in the best head space lately, but seriously? Who forgets their own birthday?"

Blinking in surprise, Izzy looked down at the half-unwrapped package in her hands. "Shit," she mumbled under her breath. "It was last Tuesday."

"Yep," Ian replied, popping the 'p'. "Now are you going to open that thing or what. I know the presentation is beautiful and everything, but it's not exactly the point of the thing."

Izzy shot him a quick smile and ripped into the paper, and the smile widened when she saw what was inside. "You got me a sock monkey hat?"

"I most certainly did," he said, smirking down at her. "The way I see it you love ridiculous things and your life is kind of devoid of the ridiculous right now, so...sock monkey hat."

Izzy smiled back up at him and was about to say thank you when all the sudden a chorus of shouts from the other side of the room caught their attention. A innocently pretty looking dark-haired who, based on the calls of her rabid fan club, was named Daisy strolled into the hotel bar. She had a sickly sweet smile and an aura of general beneficence that made Izzy think that maybe cartoon birds actually did dress her in the morning.

"Who is that?" she asked in a loud, conspiratorial whisper.

Ian looked at her like she was absolutely insane. "Don't you watch the news?" She stared up at him blankly, making him shake his head at her yet again. "Right, I forgot who I was talking to. She popped up yesterday. Apparently she has the power to cure any illness. She's one of those selfless types who goes around volunteering to help build medical clinics in Third World countries and the like. They've been calling her a modern day Mother Theresa."

"Any illness? Even neurological disorders..."

Izzy trailed off as she saw a man in a wheelchair push his way to the front of the throng of people. The body guards who had been holding off the fans tried to stop him, but Daisy waved him forward. She crouched down to the ground and put her hands on the guys legs, rubbing them for a few moments before standing up and stepping away. Slowly the guy stood up and took a few steps, only to collapse to the ground. There was a collective gasp and one gleeful laugh, belonging to Nathan of course, but almost as quickly as he fell, he popped back up and pulled the girl into a tight embrace.

"See," Ian said, poking her in the side with his elbow. "Not everything in the world is all that terrible."

"Yeah," she whispered quietly. "Maybe not." Izzy cleared her throat uncomfortably and turned to fully face Ian for the first time in the entire conversation. "Hey, Ian," she said in a shaky, slightly hesitant voice. "I just wanted to say...all the stuff you've done for me over the past week or two. I really, really appreciate it. I don't know how to thank you."

"Well I do," he shot back quickly, peering down at her with a smile in his eyes. "Dinner. And not one out of take-out containers with papers all over the table where we spend half the time wiping soy sauce off of legal documents. A proper one in a restaurant. You'll even have to brush your hair."

A cold wave of anxiety rushed through Izzy's veins. This was something she had absolutely not prepared for. It wasn't something she had expected. "Ian, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Noooo," he drew out, shrugging his shoulders casually. "First of all, you'd be paying. Second of all, it's just a dinner between old friends. Whether or not we make out on the cab ride home in entirely up to you."

There was a definite clenching sensation in the pit of her stomach as she heard those words come out of his mouth, and for once her words failed her. There was nothing in her head, except for the sound of crickets that her head was so helpfully providing her with for the second time that day. Reflexively, her eyes snapped towards Nathan. He was off on the other side of the room trying to find out how many little appetizer things he could shove into his mouth at once. What a fucking idiot. But that idiot was the only thing that was in her head at the moment.

After a few seconds of dead silence, Ian followed her gaze until he discovered what she was looking at. "Ah," he said in a tone of realization. "You're not quite there yet, are you?"

Izzy pressed her lips together in a thin line and shook her head no.

"Is there a sort of time frame you might be able to give me as to when you will be there?"

Again, she shook her head no.

"Do you love him?"

That was enough to make her wrench her eyes from Nathan. "What?" she demanded looking Ian full in the face.

"I think you heard me, Bels."

Gaping like a fish, Izzy turned back to Nathan who had for some unknown reason started doing a little jig. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I don't love him. It's just—usually when I'm not a rollicking mess...I just always have fun when he's around and when he's not I just feel like I would be enjoying myself more if he was." When she turned back to look at Ian, he was staring down at her with a sad, slightly pitying smile. And then something hit her like she had walked face-first into a wall. Another fucking emotional epiphany. "Shit. I do love him, don't I?"

Ian sighed and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "It would seem so, Bels. It would seem so."

"I guess dinner wouldn't be the best idea, then," she mumbled under her breath, picking at her now carefully manicured nails.

"Oh, well I don't know about that," he drawled out in a casual tone. "I'm not above being the rebound guy. But that restaurant I really wanted to go to...it's new and doesn't open for another few weeks. We'd have to put it off until then. I hope that's not too inconvenient for you."

And then Izzy looked at Ian—really looked at him—for the first time in four years. He hadn't changed at all, now that she thought about it. He was that same sweet, funny. considerate guy that he always was. He was the same guy that she had loved all those years ago. It was her that had changed. It was funny, really, the paths life can take you through. Here she was with a perfectly decent guy who any girl would die to have on their arm, and she was looking at the bloke who now had nine canapes shoved into his mouth and was struggling to chew. She was in love with that guy. And for some incomprehensible reason, Ian had been the reason she realized it. The irony of it was just too much to handle, and Izzy let out a low chuckle.

"Ian, you're a really good guy."

Ian let out a heavy sigh and nodded. "Yeah, it's kind of a pain in the arse when you're trying to map out a proper schedule."

If anybody asked Izzy about how the rest of the event turned out, she really wouldn't be able to tell them. She wasn't really paying attention to any of the investors or sponsors, or people who tried to talk to her. She sat down at a table in the corner of the room and stared out the window at the people walking down the street. It was something she had done since she was a kid, watch people and come up with stories for them and their lives. They were usually silly stories, simple ones. The woman with the over-sized purse and the frazzled expression was picking her kids up from school to take them to ice cream, the two teenagers holding hands were on their way to the movies on their second date, that kind of thing. They were snapshots of moments she wanted in her life. For a while there she had stopped doing it, but lately she needed those moments again, even if they weren't hers to have. Anyways, she must have been scary enough to drive off anybody who might want to talk to her, and when she left early nobody, not even Laura, seemed to fight her.

As soon as she made it back to her hotel room, Izzy went straight to the bathroom and took a shower, washing all of the makeup off of her, which almost led to one of the most stereotypical movie tropes of all time: having emotional realizations and crying while in the shower. Fortunately, Izzy had already had her emotional realization and she had no intention of crying, so she was free of that degree of cheesiness but it was close enough. In the light of that discovery, everything was completely different and exactly the same all at it came down to it, her emotional realization had absolutely no effect on her situation whatsoever. She was still a complete car wreck of a human being.

Stepping out of the shower, Izzy wrapped herself in one of those fluffy, white terrycloth robes that seemed to be in infinite supply around that hotel. She padded into the main room and collapsed onto the sofa, grabbing the remote and flipping on the telly. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, watching movies and letting herself be numb. There was nothing to interrupt her. Nothing, that was, until her mobile rang.

Sighing heavily, Izzy hauled herself to her feet and moved to the source of the ringing. Who the hell would be calling her, especially at that hour? It turned out to be the last person person in the world she expected. It rang two more times in her hand before she punched the send button and pressed it to her ear.

"Nathan, why are you calling me?"

"Ginger, thank God!" a panicked sounding voice crackled in her ear. "Barry's not answerin' his phone! The little bastard wandered off some place and I need some fuckin' help. I'm in that Daisy girl's room an'-"

Izzy bit her lip and rubbed at her forehead. She was getting a headache. "Listen Nathan, if you're calling me to tell me you've screwed Mother Theresa, then-"

"No, no, no, you're not listenin'," he rambled on. "I was askin' for her help with a wee little problem of mine, and then she starts frothin' at the mouth and gurglin' and shit and then she fell back on this statue thing, I think she's dead! I don't know what the fuck to do!"

Izzy froze for a moment. "I'll be there in two minutes."

**Alright, so there it is. I hope you like it. Please review.**


	43. Lactose Intolerant

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Guest, incitanemxx, Chantelle, WinterMemories, Taylor, and MarleyBeatles for reviewing! You guys are the best!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

Chapter 43 – Lactose Intolerant

That tapping noise was really fucking annoying. For some reason that was the only thing that Izzy could think about at the moment. Not the dead body on the floor of the room next door, not the cops who had been circulating through the room, not the fact that she was sitting there in her thin pajamas with stringy hair and makeup streaked across her face—what was bothering her more than anything was the fucking tapping noise that rang through the room as Nathan's knee bounced up and down anxiously. She couldn't blame him, though. If she were him, she would be pretty fucking nervous as well.

It had actually taken her four minutes to get to that Daisy girl's room. It had been a pretty gruesome sight. Izzy forced her way through the door to find Nathan standing over the girl with his hands covering his mouth and a guilty expression on his face that made him look like a child who had broken some sort of valuable object and was waiting to be scolded by his mum. But she didn't have any words to scold him with. She was more distracted by the pretty girl in the flowing princess dress who had a massive glass shard of something-or-other sticking out of her chest. It wasn't the first time she had seen an impaled body, but this time around it was much, much messier than when it had been Nathan on that fence. It was the only thing he did neatly.

After the initial shock, she had managed to get it together enough to call Laura. Izzy hated the woman with every fiber of being, but she knew when to put personal feelings aside for practicalities sake. If there was anyone who could spin the tragic death of Mother Theresa, it was Laura. Laura called the media and the cops, in that order, and put them aside in the same conference room they had used the previous morning to await any criminal charges. Or press conferences. Anyways, she had put them in that room a full two and a half hours ago, and Nathan's foot had been tapping the entire fucking time.

"So I guess I killed someone then," Nathan said, exhaling loudly and continuing to tap his foot frantically. "I mean, it was bound to happen sooner or later. The number of times us lot get into this sort of shit? It was a statistical inevitability, really."

"Shut up, you didn't kill anybody," Izzy muttered back, nudging his leg with the toe of her currently sockless Converse. "I saw her face. She was choking on her own vomit, and as much as you make people want to throw up sometimes, you can't exactly take credit for this one."

"Nice one," Nathan drawled out. "Equal parts comfort and insult. Very well executed two-fister. Falcon punch and all that shit."

"That is not the appropriate use of the term 'falcon punch'," Izzy replied shortly, narrowing her eyes.

"So you're an expert on video games now, are ya?" he demanded, grabbing a handful of nuts from the bowl on the coffee table and shoving them in his mouth, chewing frantically. "You've been hangin' out with Barry too much."

Izzy sighed heavily and began nervously running her hands through her hair. That bloody tapping noise was about to make her snap. It was beginning to sound more and more like a rapid heartbeat, and it was beginning to freak her out. Tap, tap, tap. "Would you stop with the fucking fidgeting?" she groaned, reaching over and planting a hand on his knee to hold it still. "I'm starting to want to rip your face off."

The tapping stopped instantly and Nathan stared at her with wide eyes. Izzy furrowed her eyebrows and stared back at him, confused by the sudden change. And then her eyes followed down the length of her own arm to realize that her hand was still there, grasping his knee. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she released it like it was burning her hand and settled back in her chair, suddenly finding the pattern of the sofa absolutely fascinating and enthusiastically falling into yet another awkward silence. It didn't last all that long, though.

"I'm sorry about the girls in the elevator and shit," Nathan said with a sort of forced casualness, drumming his fingers against his chairs armrest. "I wasn't exactly expectin' to see you there or anythin' seein' as you bailed on the party so much earlier."

Izzy sighed again and ran her fingers through her hair again, pulling it back into a ponytail. For some reason it made her feel less vulnerable. "You don't have anything to apologize for," she muttered reluctantly. "We split up over a week ago—it's not like you cheated or anything. I'm not about to get in the way of you enjoying the 'fruits' of your newfound fame."

"Yeah, well karma bit me in my beautiful arse soon enough," he replied in a tired voice, wiping at his eyes in exhaustion. "One of those girls gave me a little bit more than a good time."

Izzy scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes. "Are you serious?" she groaned loudly. "I told you they were of the two condom variety."

"Oh, come on, Ginger," he whined. "You sound like a fuckin' public service announcement. I don't think that much to begin with and under those exceptional circumstances—"

"You are fucking unbelievable," she replied, more than a little bit of exasperation seeping through in her tone. "So you what? Came down here to ask Mother Theresa to rub your cock better?"

Nathan pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her a bit, like he was considering something. "You make it sound all inappropriate when you say it like that."

"Say it like what? Out loud?" she demanded, raising her eyebrows at him challengingly.

Huffing loudly, Nathan collapsed back in his chair and they resumed their silence. The only noise was the ticking of the clock on the wall above their heads and the muffled voices of the policemen in the other room. Izzy could feel Nathan's eyes continue to flick in her general direction, and it made her clam up a bit, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs.

"So….." Nathan drew out, breaking the silence for a second time, "I did something stupid and I called you."

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him curiously. "Yeah."

"And you showed up," he continued, still staring at her with a weird sort of intensity.

"I did," Izzy replied, fidgeting slightly under his gaze.

Nathan pushed himself up so he was sitting up straight and leaned towards her slightly. "If the past it any indicator," he said quietly, "I'm goin' to keep doing stupid shit."

"Yeah," Izzy said through a light snort. "Yeah, I'd say that's likely." Nathan nodded along with her words, again looking like he was thinking hard about something, which generally never ended well. "Nathan, what's the point of this?" she asked, rubbing at her forehead.

He blew out a long breath and scratched at the back of his neck absently. "The point is I'm goin' to keep callin' you. Are you goin' to keep showin' up?"

"Of course I am, you idiot."

She didn't even think about the answer before giving it, but the change in the expression on Nathan's face made her go back over the response in her head. Not just that statement, but the whole conversation. Shit. This was the first time either of them had referenced their relationship—whichever version of the relationship they might have—actually extending into the future. Izzy never really thought about things in terms of the future. Whenever she actually made plans—going to university, adopting Allan, anything at all—they always seemed to blow up in her face. She had gotten really, really good at not thinking about where things were going, because more often than not where things were going was nowhere. But now, between the words that had just forced their way out of her mouth and the way Nathan was looking at her maybe they had actually been going somewhere. Izzy ran her hands down her face in frustration and shook her head. "Nathan—"

Her words were cut short when there was a loud banging noise as the door to the conference room banged open and several figures with moody posture shuffling in through the door. Kelly, Alisha, and Curtis collapse in their own chairs and glowered at the two of them. They all looked tired and their clothes were fairly rumpled, like they had just rolled out of bed. The two of them cleared their throats and leaned back in their seats, trying to be as far away from each other as possible and effectively erasing that moment.

"One of yous lot," Kelly said, pointing between Izzy and Nathan, "one of ya have got to tell me why the fock I've just been dragged out of bed at six in the fockin' mornin'."

"Seriously," Curtis, added, wiping at his eyes. "How did one of you manage to fuck up between the time the rest of us went to sleep and woke up?"

Nathan looked at Izzy and then at the rest of them, wincing heavily. "There may have been a tiny, wee little murder."

Most groups would have screeched in shock or jumped to their feet or at the very least would have asked a shitload of questions. Not the ASBO six minus one. Someone was murdered? Was it Tuesday already?

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Alisha said in a tired voice. She was certainly looking less put together than usual. She had on all the usual makeup and jewelry, but now it was looking more like an afterthought than anything else. In fact, Izzy was pretty sure she was still wearing her pajama top. But the look of exhaustion on her face wasn't the typical kind. More emotional exhaustion than sleep deprivation. She wasn't doing all that much better than Izzy was with all this fame stuff. But regardless of her emotional status or sleep status, her lack of appreciation for Nathan was shining through.

"Nobody was murdered," Izzy grumbled from her position in the corner. "It was either accidental or natural causes."

"So that's three outta six now," Curtis mumbled. "I wonder how much longer the rest of us are goin' to hold out."

"Not helpful, Curtis," Izzy said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"So who did you kill?" Curtis asked, grabbing the snack bowl and popping a few nuts into his mouth.

"He didn't kill anybody," Izzy bit out, leaning over and snatching the bowl away from him, "and it was that Daisy girl."

"Wot, the pretty one who can heal people?" Kelly asked, gaping a bit.

"The one and only."

Just then the door opened a second time and Laura stepped through, looking just as polished at six in the morning as she had at ten at night when this massive shitstorm had started.

"Uh, wot are we doin' 'ere?" Kelly asked the moment the woman made it through the door. "We didn't do anyfin' wrong."

"No," Laura said, her frustration with the increasingly ridiculous sequence of events showing through. "No, this isn't about any of you specifically. This is about damage control. The ASBO six have been presented to the public as a cohesive group, so as far as the media is concerned, this concerns all of you. Now, I have already drafted a press release detailing the incident. It was a tragic accident, and serves to demonstrate just how human these so-called superheroes are."

Izzy scrunched up her face in distaste and propped her feet up on the coffee table in front of her, folding her arms across her chest. "Wow, even I have to give you credit for that one," she spat bitterly. "I didn't think you could put a lucrative spin on the headline 'Young Humanitarian Dies Senseless Death' but you managed it wonderfully."

Laura ignored the hostile quip and moved to the center of the group, fixing Nathan under her stare. Moment of truth. Nathan clambered to his feet and stood in front of her, pressing his fingertips to his lips in an oddly suppliant expression. Laura squared her shoulders, facing him, and exhaled sharply. "The police are going to want to interview you again, but they seemed to be satisfied that Daisy's death was an accident."

Nathan sighed in relief and threw his hands in the air, the tension leaving his body. "Ah, thank you!" he said collapsing back into the chair, and glancing around at them all with a vindicated look on his face. "And I just want to say," he continued, pointing at them all, "it's a tragedy. And noone is more upset about this than me. But what's done is done. I think we should all move on. Stronger. Fitter. Wiser."

"Yeah, you're the bionic man if he was a complete twat," Izzy muttered back.

"Dis could only 'appen to you," Kelly growled, probably mentally flipping him off.

"She was goin' to cure the world," Curtis piled on, curling his lip slightly. "She could've cured Izzy's bother. Now he's stuck with epilepsy the rest of his life. Jesus fucking Christ."

Nathan's head swung around to look at Izzy, but she glanced away the moment his eyes met hers. She hadn't intended on mentioning that little bit of information. The bloke had been freaked out enough to begin with—she didn't want to go piling guilt on as well. The girl had choked to death. Between the bloodshot eyes and the crap clogging her throat, that much was obvious. And now that he was freed from blame, he could go back to being his casual, cavalier self.

"Look, there's only so many times that I can say that I'm sorry," he whined, rounding on Curtis. "And you—if you're so cut up about it, why don't you do a little rewind and fix this entire situation!"

"You know it doesn't work like that!" Curtis shouted, eyeing Nathan with disgust.

Nathan scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes, casually placing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. "I am gettin' pretty sick of hearin' that, mate."

"Prick," Curtis spat angrily, kicking at Nathan's chair.

Laura strode towards Nathan's slack, lazy figure with a sort of angry determination reinforced by the loud sound of her heels clacking against the floor. Nathan regarded her with a certain degree of amusement until she leaned forwards, bringing herself to his eye level, and smiled a menacing smile which clearly spelled out 'not to be fucked with'. Even Nathan wasn't oblivious enough not to be freaked out and the jovial smirk on his face quickly morphed into a pained grimace. Laura leaned in close so that her face was centimeters from his. "Fuck up like this again," she whispered harshly, "and I will end you."

"I'll try not to," Nathan mumbled back, smiling weakly.

That menacing smile of Laura's widened dangerously. "You best not." And with that she straightened up and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

There was a short silence as the five of them looked at each other, wondering what to do next. Nathan let out a loud yawn and stretched theatrically in his chair, letting a bright smile cover his face. "Well, I think that went pretty well," he said brightly, eliciting the obligatory collective groan.

Izzy yawned widely. She was fucking exhausted. It seemed to be a pattern for her, staying up all night talking to the cops about one dead body or another. A pretty alarming pattern. But there was more than one pattern she kept getting wrapped into. The pattern of her and Nathan awkwardly staring at each other. She was beginning to feel like the female version of Simon. Shit, wasn't that a terrifying thought.

"I'm going to bed," she announced suddenly, fighting her way out of the overly plushy sofa. "I haven't slept in like forty-eight hours. If I don't sleep soon, I'm going to turn into an angry she-hulk and start smashing shit."

Nobody bothered trying to stop her as she went, but she could feel Nathan watching her as she went. She was hyper-aware of it, actually, and it made her muscles tense causing her to walk with deliberate, jerky movements. There had been a moment before the rest of them piled into that room that now felt much, much smaller than it actually was. As she got to the door, he shouted out after her, and it made her freeze.

"Oi, Ginger," he called out after her. "You're comin' to the thing later, right?"

She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and pause at the door frame, drumming her fingers against the wood. She glanced back over her shoulder with a wan smile. "You shooting yourself in the head? Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Izzy walked barefoot down the hallway on her way back to her room. In the rush to get to Nathan in the first place she had forgotten to put on shoes. Or socks. Or those ridiculous bunny slippers that she kept shoved in the back of her closet and would never, ever admit to anybody that she owned. No, she just ambled slowly down the hallway in her pajamas and enjoying the feeling of the carpet fibers squishing between her toes. It made her feel like a little kid again.

When she finally made it to her room, Izzy collapsed face first onto the bed, sinking into the fluffy white pillows and blankets. It was like she was sleeping on a cloud. And she let herself just float away. But not before setting an alarm for Nathan's big onscreen performance.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Apparently during those few hours of blissful unconsciousness, Izzy had missed quite a bit. Her alarm had gone off, blaring loudly in her ear and causing her to bolt upright in her bed. One of the drawbacks to sleeping on a cloud was that you never really wanted to come down from it. It was soft and warm at there. But somehow she managed to haul herself out of bed in time to be thrown into one of those chairs and be attacked by a few people with medieval torture implements so that she could be camera-ready.

Eventually Izzy managed to make it to the film studio where the spectacle was taking place. As she moved through the forest of cameras and wires which were definitely actively trying to trip her, she followed the cardboard signs pointing her in the direction of the correct film crew. They all read 'Nathan Young's Oops There Goes My Brains'. Clearly these people weren't exactly in favor of subtlety. After almost face-planting approximately seven times—walking through that building in heels was like an obstacle course—Izzy finally found that backstage room.

Given her late start, everybody else was already there. Izzy peered through that small window in the door, observing all the people inside. Nathan was sitting at one of those stereotypical movie star vanity sets with the huge front-lighting light bulbs, drinking a beer, Curtis was sitting on the floor with his arm around Nikki, and Kelly was a little ways off, slugging a beer of her own. What Izzy found most interesting, though, was Alisha and Simon. They were sitting on the floor next to each other, which was normal enough, but the curious part was the spacing. They were sitting much closer together than she had ever seen them before, but not so close that they appeared overly comfortable with each other. And they were whispering to each other. "Well, shit," Izzy mumbled to herself, finally placing her hand on the door handle and pushing her way in.

"Ah, Ginger!" Nathan said, waving at her jovially. "Nice of you to show up, you almost missed my cue. I was beginnin' to think you wouldn't. I know it must pain you to see me muss up my beautiful face, but I'll be all shiny and new soon enough!"

Izzy ignored him as she walked into the room, plopping down on the floor next to Alisha and grabbing a piece of pizza from the cardboard box in the middle of the room. "There is a comically large amount of cheese on this thing," she said, picking at the greasy strings falling off of it before shoving it into her mouth. She chomped down on the thing inelegantly, only to glance up and find Nathan staring at her in the mirror. Jesus fucking Christ, where would this shit end? Was this some strange sort of pseudo-reconciliation? Could they even breathe without turning into a couple of dysfunctional weirdos?

Looking away from her, Nathan took a long swig of his beer, sighing loudly as he plunked it down on the table and spun around dramatically in his chair. "How do I look?" he demanded, holding his arms out wide and putting himself on display, tuxedo and all.

"Like one of Mr. Popper's penguins," Izzy said, her voice muffled by the pizza in her mouth.

"Like a prick in a suit," Curtis said almost immediately.

"Now that's sexual jealousy because of my prowess as a lover," Nathan shot back, smirking heavily.

"Is it true that you shit yourself when you die?" Nikki asked in a deadpan voice making Izzy choke on her pizza along with everyone else. Still chuckling, Izzy grabbed a beer and reached over to clink it against Nikki's.

"You might just fit in here, new girl," she said through a snort.

"Hey, that only happened the once," Nathan exclaimed, pointing between the lot of them and looking betrayed. "And I've got a bucket standing by just in case!"

Nikki curled her lip and sneered slightly, letting the piece of pizza in her hand drop to the plate. She clearly still needed to get used to all of the Nathan-ness. She held out the plate to Curtis, still eyeing Nathan with disgust. "Do you want some of that," she offered. "I think I've lost my appetite."

"Nah, I can't," Curtis said, waving her off. "I'm lactose intolerant."

"Does that mean you're afraid of cows?" Nathan asked through a huge mouthful of pizza.

"Jesus Nathan," Izzy said, shaking her head pityingly, "sometimes you've got to be kidding with this kind of shit."

Nathan just shot them all a perplexed look, making Curtis roll his eyes heavily. "No," he corrected snidely, "it means I don't eat cheese or dairy products."

"Hm," Nathan said, raising his eyebrows, "I didn't know that about you."

"Me neither," Izzy added, slightly peeved. "That's a shitload of pranks I've missed out on."

" 'Ave I got time to go to the toilet before you shoot yaself?" Kelly inquired in a deadpan voice.

Nathan narrowed eyes and pursed his lips, considering the question. "A piss, yes. A shit? Probably not."

Kelly made a face and brushed the pizza off her hands, clambering to her feet.

"I'll come with you," Alisha said, giving Simon a weirdly earnest look and getting to her feet as well. Izzy glanced between the girl and Simon suspiciously. There was a definite change in the way they were acting towards each other. And she wanted to know exactly what it was. Was it nosy? Yes. But she had invested enough in their relationship to merit some sort of explanation. "I'm coming as well," she called out as Alisha reached the door.

"What is it with girls and goin' to the bathroom the same time?" Nathan shouted after her as she strode towards the door. "I mean, you just got here! You can't possibly have to go already. Nobody's bladder is that small!"

Ignoring him, Izzy continued after the other two, jogging slightly and with as much coordination as possible to catch up with them. "Alisha!" she called out in a harsh whisper as she approached the bathroom. "Alisha, wait up!"

Kelly continued into the toilets, but Alisha stood at the door, waiting for Izzy to approach. "What is it?" she whispered loudly.

Stumbling slightly, Izzy braced a hand against the doorframe and studied the other girl's face. It still had that bit of sadness in it that had been there since Simon's—the other one's—death, but there was something else there as well. Hope. Izzy let out a long breath and bit her lip slightly, trying to proceed with respectful caution. "Has something happened?" she asked quietly. "With you and Simon I mean. In there the two of you were acting…different."

Alisha rolled her eyes and sighed. "How the fuck do you notice shit like that?"

"I pay too much attention to pretty much everything going on at any point in time," Izzy replied, shrugging her shoulders. "It's pretty exhausting."

Alisha let out a humorless laugh and pushed her hair out of her face, clearly trying to get her thoughts in order. "He followed me," she said in a low voice. "To his—the other Simon's—apartment, he followed my. He saw me looking at this picture I had of the two of us. I told him he came back to save us and he started talking about 'The Terminator'—"

"John Conner sending back Carl Reese to be his own father?" Izzy interjected quickly.

"Jesus," Alisha muttered, rolling her eyes again. "I never know what the two of you are talking about."

Izzy continued to gnaw on her lip. "Are you okay?" she asked tentatively. "The two of you?"

"I don't know," Alisha replied in a tired voice. "It's not like there's a rule book for this kind of shit. I hope we will be."

Izzy nodded and gave her a sympathetic look. "I hope so too."

"You coming in?" Alisha asked, gesturing at the door.

"No," Izzy said, shaking her head. "I just wanted to see….how you were holding up."

Alisha nodded and pushed through the door, leaving Izzy alone in the dark hallway. She sighed heavily and leaned against the wall. Izzy squeezed her eyes shut, sliding down it until she was sitting on the floor below. Great. In those heels she would probably never be able to stand up again. She would have to resort to reaching out to random strangers and calling out, "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!" Fuck. When did life get so fucking complicated? She wanted to go home and go to sleep—again—but she had to go watch Nathan shoot himself in the head. As if she hadn't seen him die enough for a life time.

After a few moments, she heard footsteps approaching her. Yawning and pushing herself upright, Izzy held out a hand. "Hey, help me up will you?" she said reaching up, not bothering to open her eyes. The footsteps came to a stop directly in front of her, but whoever it was didn't take her hand, or even say anything. Izzy opened her eyes and looked up at the heavily backlit figure. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lighting, but soon enough she found that she was staring up at the milk guy whatever his name was, who was glowering down at her with a hate in his eyes that she hadn't seen since Ian tried to kill her. She pushed herself closed to the wall, trying to move her body as far from him as possible.

"What do you w—"

Her words were cut off as her stomach suddenly started to twist and turn, causing a searing pain to shoot through her body. It felt like something was tearing through her flesh moving up from her stomach and into her throat. She wanted to scream, but whatever it was happening to her cut off her breath, making her grab at her own throat and kick her legs, as if that would accomplish anything.

The guy took several small steps forward and crouched down near her, bringing himself down to her eye level. She reached out to grab at him, possibly strangle him, but he was just outside of his grasp. He smirked at her evilly and leaned in slightly, speaking to her in a quiet, menacing voice.

"That's the cheese you ate, moving out of your stomach up through your esophagus," he whispered while she kicked, her movements getting weaker and weaker. "It's passing into your trachea and blocking it. You're choking to death. And I'm going to watch."

All of her limbs felt heavy—she couldn't move them any more. Black spots were beginning to form at the corners of her field of vision and move inward, blacking everything out. And in that moment Izzy knew the truth. She was going to die. She had just turned twenty-three last Tuesday, and she was going to die. She would never see Allan again, she would never get to go to Chile and see the stars from the Atacama Desert, she would never tell that idiot boy in the other room that she loved him. Izzy knew she was moments from passing out, so she turned and looked the bastard crouching over her in the eye. He probably couldn't hear her since she had no air to form the words, but she fixed him with an angry glare and mouthed two words.

"Fuck. You."

The little spots in the corner of her eyes continued to move inwards until they formed a wall of black. What would her last thoughts be?

**Well that's chapter 43 folks. I hope you like the way I ended it. The next chapter will be Nathan POV, possibly a bit of Simon POV for the very end for obvious reasons.**

**Awkward Nizzy interactions! I love those two, but they really are idiots. I wanted to say a big, big thank you to all of my lovely readers for your support. This was a big benchmark for me, 80 favorites and 300 reviews. Thank you guys so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! It would make me very, very happy, so...pretty please?  
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	44. Regrets Only

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to ChayagraceDaya, witchbaby300, WinterMemories, Guest, Becca, LadyShaggingGodiva, LittleGee, zebrazoe, and Chantelle for reviewing! You guys are the best!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

Chapter 44 – Regrets Only

Fuck! Why was it that every single fucking time he woke up after one of those little dying episodes he had to feel like he just ran a fucking marathon—panting, headache, and all that sort of shit? Generally speaking, marathon runners were a bunch of dildos what with their short shorts and excellent cardiovascular health. Jeremy ran marathons, and he absolutely refused to belong to a group that that twat was a part of.

Opening his eyes, Nathan pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around wildly. He was still in that glass box in front of all those lights and cameras. Right, the cameras. Face still beautiful, balls still intact—time to put on a smile. He scrambled to his feet, slipping a bit on his own blood and brain matter. Huh. He had dribbled a bit of brains on his tuxedo. Maybe he should have worn a bib or something. Glancing around a bit and finding the correct camera, Nathan gave a little salute to the audience, smirking widely. "And that boys and girls is how you shoot yourself in the head. I wouldn't recommend tryin' it at home!"

The audience broke out into applause and he made his way out of the giant glass box, tripping a bit over his own feet. Usually he would have liked having all those people clapping for him, but his head was fucking killing him. Was a piece of that bullet still stuck somewhere up there, rattling around in his brain? Was that possible? It definitely fucking felt like it.

Nathan squinted into the light and looked at the shitload of people clapping and screaming at him. He waved and blew kisses at all those lovely, barely legal girls swooning at the sight of him. There was a huge crowd there, but where the fuck was everybody? Curtis, Alisha, Barry, heart-transplant chick—they were all missing, the twats. Even Ginger hadn't bothered sticking around. The two of them weren't exactly on the best of terms at the moment, but when she said she was going to do something, she usually did it.

After a few minutes of shaking hands, signing chests, and kissing babies, Nathan made his way to the crappy old locker room. He didn't mind being back in the old community center all that much. He had died in that place so many times, it seemed pretty appropriate for that to be the place he painted his brains on the wall for public entertainment. Memories, nostalgia, and all that shit.

Walking up to his locker, Nathan began stripping off that suit and cleaning himself off. Mr. Popper's penguin, his beautiful arse. He looked good. Then again, he always did. He did have to agree with Ginger on one count, though. Those clothes were fucking uncomfortable. Or at least he thought he was agreeing with her. She had never really said anything about it, but she always looked pretty fucking miserable, pulling at her shirts and rubbing at her ankles every time she sat down. She always looked fit, prancing around in those shorts that showed off her cute little arse, but if he was being honest he liked it better before when she wore those ripped up baggy trousers everywhere. Back then he used to be the only one who actually knew what that cute little arse looked like.

Ginger. Izzy. There were a lot of things that confused him—science, bigfoot, washing machines—but that bird was pretty high up on the list. After they had all gotten famous, she had turned all mopey and moody and shit, and quite frankly was putting a bit of a downer on the whole experience. He had enough issues dealing with a weepy, PMS-y, ice cream-eating girl five days a month—at least he was pretty sure it was five days—so having that around all the time wasn't exactly a walk in the park, but he was willing to put up with it. Then she had showed up with the 'we need to talk face' and it became pretty fucking clear that the entire thing was over and done with. He should have been expecting it. Everyone left eventually—his dad, his mum, really it was just a matter of time so he decided to just go along with it. If there ever was a time to get dumped, it was when there were hordes of barely legal groupies throwing themselves at his feet. Over, done with, and moving the fuck on.

Then she showed up. What the fuck was up with that? After seeing each other off and all that shit in the lift, he had called her and she had showed up. Again. No matter how much crap he pulled, she always showed up, and even when she didn't have a single fucking reason to, and she said she always would. What the hell was he supposed to do with that information? Nobody had always been there—not even his mum—but even when they were on the outs, she just kept showing up.

Shit. Usually when he thought about girls in the shower, the ending was a bit different. By the end of it he was definitely a hell of a lot happier, and a lot less confused. Climbing out of the shower, he toweled off and threw on some of those old clothes of his and headed over to his locker, whistling and doing a bit of a jig—happy face and all that. He had to give the people what they want—a giant helping of him. Readjust the baby-making accessories, fix the hair and—

"Shit!"

Speak of the devil, and the ginger will appear. Izzy was standing there, staring at him in the mirror with a sort of sad-happy look. She was always better with the big words than he was. What would she call it? Resigned, that's what she would call it.

"Nice of you to finally show up," he said slightly bitterly, waving absently in her direction. "You missed all the action—me dyin', the girls faintin' and callin' out my name in ecstasy." She just raised her eyebrows and gave him a quizzical look that made him falter. "Anyways, Ginger, if you wanted to see me naked again, you'll have to get in line. I'm pretty sure in few minute there'll be a crowd of barely legal groupies waitin' out there, and you've already had a peek. That's hardly fair, is it?"

"You need to know," she said, fixing him with a serious stare he wasn't used to, "they're walking into a trap."

"What's that," Nathan shot back, still fixing his hair and glancing at him in the mirror.

"The milk guy," she continued. "He's kidnapped Alisha."

Nathan finally turned away from the mirror, giving her his full attention. "What? What the fuck are you talkin' about? When did this happen?"

"The milk guy's gone mental," she said, sighing heavily. "He's going to kill them all—Simon, Curtis, Alisha—he's going to kill them all."

Nathan furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head fervently. "Now why do you think he'd go do something like that? That's ridiculous."

She bit her lip and bounced up and down on her feet like she really didn't want to tell him the next bit, not because of herself but because she was afraid of how it might affect him. "He killed me, Nathan," she replied in a low, rough voice tinged with a hell of a lot of regret and a little bit of warning. "He killed Kelly, too. I'm dead."

It was like someone had punched him in the gut. But, no. That wasn't what was happening here. It wasn't. Nathan let out a loud scoff. "Shut up, you're not dead. You're way too stubborn to up and die like that without any dramatic shit going on. For you to die there would have to be an explosion, or an alien invasion or some shit like that."

Izzy snorted bitterly and roller her eyes in a way that was so unmistakably her and stared at her shoes, like she was trying to figure out how to say something. "Jesus," she muttered almost angrily. "At least Haley Joel Osment could tell when he was talking to dead people. It saves a shitload of time when it comes to exposition." She looked up at Nathan with an expression that he had only seen twice before—that time she found him dying after the mental girl shoved him on the pipe and when she hugged him after she found out Jaime died. She was saying she was sorry. She was saying sorry because she was actually dead.

Well, fuck that.

"No," Nathan said, shaking his head furiously. "No, I've seen you deflect bullets, throw guys meters away from you like you were sneezin' or somethin' there's no way a lactating baby-faced twat like that killed you. You're far too badass for that."

She smiled slightly at his comment and looked at him warmly, but that didn't make him feel any better. It made him feel much, much worse.

"It's not like he came at me with a knife," she shot back with more sarcasm than dead people should express, wrapping her arms around her waist. "He choked me to death with the cheese from the pizza I ate. You know, all the health journals tell you that cheese is the enemy, but I was expecting something more along the lines of congestive heart failure in my mid- to late-fifties. At least I got a unique spin on that particular health issue."

Nathan opened his mouth to say something, but for once nothing came out. He felt cold, numb even, and he couldn't stop looking at her. Hell, he couldn't even blink because she might be gone when he opened his eyes again. She couldn't go. All this time, even when they weren't together and she wasn't there she was still….there. She was a fixture, permanent. Who else was supposed to slap him upside and call him out on his shit? Who else was going to put up with all his bullshit and have a huge fucking smile plastered on their face while doing it? And why the fuck was she smiling at him now? The way she was talking to him and making jokes-she was acting like she had before all the fame shit happened, like she was using those last few seconds to be herself again.

"You're dead," was all he could say, letting cold realization wash over him.

"Yep," she replied popping the 'p'. It was the same old sarcasm, but the way she was looking at him when she use it was so...final. "Hey, you want to go find a pottery wheel and reenact that scene from 'Ghost'?" she said suddenly with forced amusement. "The community center seems to have an endless supply of random shit. I'm sure they have one somewhere around. Girl on guy—it would be pretty funny."

He stared back at her in shock. "Great, I'm gettin' sarcasm from the ghost of my ex-girlfriend," he shouted at the universe, before turning to Izzy herself. "How can you be so fuckin' calm about this!" he shouted at her, anger sliding neatly into place next to anguish and bitterness. "You fuckin' died!"

A shadow of guilt crossed Izzy's face, but she smiled back wryly and shrugged her shoulders. "I really don't know," she replied, sounding genuinely confused. "I don't think I've ever been afraid of being dead. I've been afraid of the act of dying, but death itself….not so much. I wish I could have gotten more, but I won't really know the difference, will I? It's not like it's something I'll have to live with. Dead is dead, in most cases at least. I spent so many years wishing and hoping that my mum would come back-just appear on the doorstep and wave hello, but that's not going to happen. I think I just came to terms with that a long time ago."

Taking several large steps forward, Nathan reached out a hand to touch her, but then stopped himself. She was a ghost—she wasn't actually there—and if he watched his hand actually move through her, he would probably throw up. A sort of ache was starting to build up in his throat. It was like his body was physically trying to make him scream, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not while he was still looking at her. They looked at each other quietly for a moment, and then she brought her arm up so that she was holding her palm millimeters away from his cheek. He could almost feel it, like static electricity.

"I guess this is the part where I tell you I love you," she said simply, making his stomach clench, tying itself into knots. "I figure what the hell?" she continued. "I won't be getting another chance. I'm sorry I fucked it all up with all my emotional martyr bullshit. I guess I always thought I'd be able to go back and fix it later. I didn't know I wouldn't have the time. I would have said it before otherwise. It doesn't make that much of a difference now. I wish I had said it when it would have made one. I'm just glad that I'm getting to say a proper goodbye."

That was the last straw. No. This was fucking unacceptable. Nathan could feel the sting of tears begin to build up behind his eyes, but he forced them back. He wouldn't need them. Because he was going to fix this. Letting out a humorless laugh, he stepped back from her, shaking his head and biting his lip so hard it almost bled.

"No," he spat bitterly, staring at her with rage mounting and emptying him of everything else. Well, except that one other thing. "No, this is bullshit. You don't get to say shit like that and then just check out. You're the one who bailed on this in the first place and I sure as fuck am not goin' to let you do it a second time. I'm goin' to fix this situation, and you are goin' to make it up to me. Many times and in many positions. And then we'll hold hands and skip through meadows and smile at each other like all the people in those herpes advertisements. That's what's goin' to happen here."

A pained smile crossed her face as she looked at him. He hated that smile more than anything. It looked so….accepting. Izzy didn't accept anything. When life chucked something at her, she just threw it back in life's face. Hard. Sure she wasn't alive anymore, but that didn't change anything. And if she wasn't going to sort this out like she always did, then he would do it for her.

"Nathan, don't go and get yourself into trouble. I know that lacto-kinesis it the shittest of all powers, but he's dangerous. Don't go in all panicky and shit. I can't help you now, you need to be careful. You need to—"

"Don't try an' be all reasonable, Ginger," he said, slamming the door to his locker closed and marching towards the door. "I'm goin' to find Curtis and that prick can make himself useful for a change. It's all goin' to work out."

"Nathan, what if you can't?" she said in a sad voice from somewhere. "I want it to work out, I really do, but it might not. Have you ever thought about that? What if you can't? Don't go do something stupid in the moment. You need to stop for a moment and think this through."

"I'm bloody well going to," he said, stomping forwards. "There is no 'can't'! You might be all okay with the idea of you bein' dead and all that, but that doesn't exactly do it for me, so you're gonna have to deal with that. I'm goin' to get my hands on that fucker and fix it, no thinkin' involved."

"You have to deal with the fact that this might not be fixable," she replied quietly. "I know the stages of grief is a thing but why can't you—"

"BECAUSE I FUCKIN' LOVE YOU TOO!"

The scream that was itching at the back of his throat was finally wrenched from his body and he spun around to face her, only to find that he was yelling at an empty room. She had evaporated like smoke in a strong breeze. Then there was that stabbing pain again, like someone had forced their fist into his abdomen and was scrambling up all his internal organs. Moisture began forming at the corners of his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. He didn't need to cry. He would go find Curtis, do a little rewind, and then none of this would have happened. And the first thing past-Nathan was going to do was find that pissy red-head and snog her brains out.

The trip back to the hotel was a blur. Nathan didn't talk to anyone. The way his jaw was clenched and his teeth were grinding, he probably couldn't say anything if he tried, which was a first for him. It was going to work. He was going to fix this because not fixing it just wasn't an option. Maybe this was how all those blokes in the movies felt after they lost someone they cared about. There was always some montage of them storming around and glaring at everything, and Nathan had always found it funny as hell how angsty they looked. Well, he wouldn't be able to laugh at those fuckers anymore. For the first time in his life, Nathan Young actually, properly wanted to kill someone.

It was hilarious, really, how soon he found the little prick. He was in the lift, going up to their floor, the doors opened and three seconds later he saw him, strolling down the hallway with a smile on his face like it was the fucking St. Patrick's Day parade. White hot rage curled somewhere in the pit of his stomach and he stormed towards the twat with a feeling of ruthlessness he had never felt before.

"You nipple-sucking, breast-feeding momma's boy!" he growled ruthlessly. "You killed her!"

Nathan moved forward with every intention of beating him to within an inch of his pathetic life, but as he approached, it was as if he ran into a wall. Nathan stumbled backwards, his feet dragging and his knees buckling beneath him. A shooting pain ran up and down his spine and his head was reeling, and not in that good way like after you've taken a couple of pills. As he began collapsing to the ground, the little twat walked closer and leaned in. And no matter how hard he tried, Nathan couldn't get at him. Everything was fading from him.

"Does that feel strange," the overgrown pre-pubescent teenager asked in a condescending voice. Nathan tried to drag himself to his feet, his hands reaching out for any sort of hold to pull himself up by, but there was nothing. He stumbled around grasping at anything—everything—while the guy approached slowly. Eventually he fell against a wall and his legs gave out, making him slide down the surface slowly until he was sitting on the ground with his legs splayed out in front of him. He was gasping for breath, but he still managed to smirk up at the bastard. "You can't…..kill me," he forced out between desperate breaths. "I'm…imm—mortal."

That was the ultimate victory, wasn't it? Nobody could kill him. It didn't matter how many times the other guy beat the shit out of him, he would always come back and fuck them over. It might take a three hour waiting period, but that was the advantage to the drooling and the pain and the general sensation of terror. But that bloke walked up to him, still with the fucking creepy smile.

"I'm not trying to kill you," he said like he was instructing a small child. "That's the mozzarella wrapping itself around your central cortex. You're going to spend the rest of your life as a vegetable."

Nathan couldn't move—that was gone—and everything else was fading away. He wasn't all that good at the planning, but this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was trying to…..he was supposed to… cute arse…..laughing…pineapple and pepperoni pizza….The fog rolled in on his mind, leaving a giant cloud of nothing.

The head sagged on the set of shoulders and the eyes were left open, focusing in on the carpet in front. They stayed there for a few minutes, slowly beginning to dry out and blur until the carpet was obstructed by a pair of dark shoes. Something grabbed hold of the head, pulling it upwards and changing the plane of vision until it included a pale figure with a grief-stricken face. It was only a few moments before the head was dropped again. It lolled to the side, and once again the pair of dark shoes appeared. The shoes moved away, going down the hallway and turning the corner. Then there was nothing else in the hallway to see.

**Okay, so this chapter was a bit shorter, but I used only about 4 minutes of screen time on the episode and they can't all be 6000+ words.**

**This might seem a little OOC, but Izzy had a moment in the last chapter where she actually accepted that she was dead, and she was alright with it. I kind of understand her attitude, so I accept her response. And I hope Nathan stayed in character. There are so many radical emotions in this chapter, it obviously wasn't typical Nathan, but I hope the reaction I wrote seemed plausible…**

**Please review! I'm a little hesitant about how I dealt with Nathan in this chapter, so I'd love to know what you think.**


	45. Forward March

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to WinterMemories, Sammi, witchbaby300, LadyShaggingGodiva, LittleGee, Becca, and Guests 1, 2, and 3 for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I hope this chapter turned out alright. I'm really not sure about it. I had to go back into the pre-episode 6 mindset to write the characters and then try to add in some more relationship development stuff that happened under totally different circumstances. I hope it turned out decently and that Nathan is in character. **

**************INSERT CURTIS REWIND MONTAGE HERE******************

Chapter 45 – Forward March

"I don't care how many times we have this bloody conversation, Nathan," Izzy groaned, opening her locker and fishing out her lumpy pile of street clothes. "The response is always going to be the same. There is no way to answer that fucking question."

"Oh, come on, Ginger," he whined back, moving to his locker as well. "Just because you can't think of the right answer doesn't mean there isn't one. You're not all-knowin' and all that shit. That's hubris that is."

Izzy rolled her eyes heavily. "It's not hubris," she replied in a tired voice. "It's biology and geography and a shitload of other things. Let me spell it out for you. Sharks live in the ocean. Bears live on land and associate with mostly fresh water. It's my understanding that the two species don't associate all that much, and putting them in a fight? Sharks have an advantage in water, bears have an advantage on land."

"Oh, yeah?" he demanded, waving his hand at her absently. "What about polar bears, hm? They swim a lot, especially since that global warmin' shit is fuckin' them over."

"Aw, can't we just say you're both right and move the fuck on?" Alisha sighed from her position in front of her own locker. "We've spent the last three hours scrapin' up dog shit and after lunch we're goin' to be doin' it for another three fuckin' hours. I'm knackered. And I'm sick of the fuckin' bickerin'. It's givin' me a headache."

It was a normal moment during a normal day doing normal shit and talking about normal things. Izzy was more than ready to curl up next to Nathan on a couch with a piece of pizza and a glass—or rather mug, she wasn't the fucking queen—of red wine while the two of them made fun of some ridiculous low budget scifi film. That would be the normal way to end the day, wouldn't it? But unfortunately for her, the way her life was going lately,normality wasn't normal anymore. Great, now she sounded like the guy who lived under the underpass and spluttered out riddles at anybody who passed by. But whatever semi-psychotic notions that were running around in her brain when Curtis let out one of those loud gasps and made that weird face of his which usually meant a little time jump had occurred.

Fucking hell. They really never did get a break.

"What's up, Curtis?" she sighed heavily. "You've got the same look all the girls at school get when they think that they're pregnant."

Curtis didn't say anything, still taking big, panicked gasps as they all stared on expectantly. "What is it?" Alisha asked tentatively, looking him up and down.

Breathing heavily, Curtis looked between the lot of them with an entreating expression on his face. "There's somethin' we've got to do," he said in an almost dazed way.

"Great," Izzy muttered slightly hostilely, slamming her locker door shut. "That's not cryptic at all."

"Looks like we're gonna 'ave ta take lunch on the road," Kelly sighed out, rolling her eyes.

Izzy wasn't quite sure if she believed the story that followed. They were outed? They became famous? She and Nathan split up? The lot of them were killed by a guy who could manipulate milk? The entire thing was just so ridiculous, it had to be true. Death by cheese. What a fucking undignified way to go. At least Simon got a heroic death, throwing himself in front of a knife like that. If Izzy wasn't so well informed she would have said she didn't think he had it in him. But she knew full well that he did—or would—when it came down to it. That made two times now he had died for the sake of group.

The entire process fit inside their lunch break—score one for efficiency. Simon, the loveable computer nerd that he was, found the guy's address within fifteen minutes. It was a five minute walk to that pathetic little flat, the rest of them listening to Curtis's running monologue the entire way. Then the six of them stood on the doorstep and somehow in the process morphed into some sort of military formation, with Curtis at the head. He reached up and arm to ring the doorbell, but was cut off by a loud voice.

"Now hold on a second," Nathan interjected, holding a hand out and indicating for them to stop. "So you're sayin' that in this weird alterative reality dimension bullshit I had a foursome? I always knew I had it in me." Curtis turned around and looked at Nathan, lip curled slightly, and Nathan just grinned back beatifically. "I think it still counts."

"It most certainly does," Izzy chirped sarcastically, holding out a hand for a high five which was promptly received. "That's a pretty exclusive club you've managed to finagle you're way into. It's like you're Mick Jagger with prettier lips and less talent."

"I think that's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me," he replied pulling her into a one-armed hug and planting a quick kiss against her temple.

Curtis gave them the strangest of all strange looks and turned back around to face the door, reaching his arm up again and pressing a finger against the small white button that was the doorbell. They waited in silence for something to happen. In that moment it occurred to Izzy that this whole process would be severely anti-climatic if nobody opened the door. What if the little prick wasn't there? What if he had gone out to get some fucking milk?

But then the door swung open to reveal a severely vertically challenged fellow with sparse blond hair and cheeks made for pinching by Alsatian grandmothers. Izzy peered over the bloke's shoulder and her eyes fell on the table behind him where he had laid out a bowl of cereal, a carton of milk and a camera. Jesus. He actually thought that he was an impressive little bugger. It almost would have made her feel bad for him, except for the bit with the murdering. And as the corners of his mouth turned up into a tentative greeting, she was sure that he had a serial killer smile. Nathan was right. He probably was breast-fed too long as a child.

Izzy wondered what their approach would be. They could calmly tell him not to go forward or he would become a psycho-murderer—that would deter most reasonable people. But then again most reasonable people didn't become serial killers. She found herself running through options in her head when Curtis brought his arm back. Okay, punching him in the face seemed to work as well. In her opinion it lacked nuance, but the end result was effective enough. Though it did mean that she had to wrap up and ice Curtis's hand when they got back to the community center. Saving their own lives, preventing a catastrophic alternative timeline, scraping up dog shit—all in a good day's work.

"I can't believe that twat killed me first," Izzy mumbled darkly into her pint. The six of them had cleaned themselves up, gone to the pub, and sat around the booth while Curtis went through the story again in more gruesome detail. And she was, once again, confronted by the idea or murderous mozzarella.

"Seriously," she continued talking more to herself than anyone else, "how is it that I ended up being the busty coed who dies at the beginning of the movie?"

"Aw I don't think you have to go worryin' about all that, Ginger," Nathan said from his position opposite her, nudging her shin with the toe of his sneaker. "You're not the busty coed. There's no way you're more than a B-cup." Izzy rolled her eyes and kicked him back hard, making him yelp. "It's not an insult, love! They fit perfectly in my hands!" he whined, waving his hands around theatrically.

"At least ya didn't die in da toilets," Kelly said loudly, interrupting them and taking a long sip from her pint. "Tha last thing I got ta see woz probably a shit some twat didn't flush."

"Great mental image," Curtis drawled out rolling his eyes. "Thanks for that."

Izzy sighed and took another sip. "I just thought I'd be up to some heroic shit if it ever came down to that sort of thing. At the very least I thought I'd outlive Alisha. No offense or anything, but if we're talking powers, yours is generally the least useful."

"Hm?" she mumbled confusedly, her head snapping away from the general direction of Simon's face. "Oh, yeah, whatever. None taken. I'm goin' to get another drink." She stood up suddenly from her spot at the end of the booth and ran her hands over her clothing, trying to smooth it out before taking a small step towards the bar. But then she paused for a moment, turning back to them. "Hey, Simon, you want to go get another drink?" she asked quietly, gesturing in the direction of the barman.

A look of mild terror crossed Simon's face and he glanced between the rest of them, somewhere between confused and terrified. Like he sometimes did, he glanced at Izzy, searching for some sort of social cue as to how to behave in these sorts of situations. She pressed her lips together into a thin smile and gave a single, curt nod, angling her head in Alisha's direction. "S—sure," he stuttered out, shooting her one of his adorably and painfully awkward smiles. "I'll come with you."

"Hey, get me another, will ya!" Nathan shouted over his shoulder as Simon walked off. Simon shot Izzy another confused look and she wrinkled her nose, shaking her head slightly to indicate that he shouldn't bother. Simon smiled again in response, making Izzy's smile widen. Soon enough he would be making big-boy decisions all on his own, without her. For some reason that made her a little sad.

Izzy watched them both go out of the corner of her eye, smiling slightly into her glass as they stood next to each other at the bar. And so it begins. For some reason she felt like the beginning of a time-travelling romance should come with a little more pomp and circumstance, but for some reason she liked this better. The pieces of the jigsaw puzzle were sliding into pace. Or was this the beginning? Maybe the beginning was when Simon decided to travel back in time. Fuck it. None of the shit she had been through the past few weeks made any sort of sense, so why should this be any different? It was a disaster. A fucked up, beautiful disaster.

"Hang on a second," Nathan suddenly said, interrupting her reverie and gesturing at Curtis. "Why is it that the milk guy couldn't take you down? I mean I'm immortal and he managed to take me out, the little twat. How is it that he didn't get you?"

Curtis rolled his eyes for possibly the fifty-fourth time that day and sank lower in his seat, sighing heavily. "I told you," he said through a loud groan. "I'm lactose intolerant."

Nathan scrunched up his face and gave Curtis a weird look. "Does that mean that you're afraid of cows?"

Curtis stared at him for a few moments with a slack-jawed expression. Izzy, Nathan, and Kelly stared at him expectantly for a moment, and he exhaled sharply and shook his head with a superior sort of look in his eye. "For fuck's sake!" he spat out, sliding down the booth and getting to his feet, wandering off in the direction of the toilets.

"What the fuck is his problem?" Nathan demanded, gesturing after him.

Kelly stared at him with a deadpan expression. "Sometimes ya've got to be fockin' kiddin'," she muttered staring at him like he was and idiot.

"What?" Nathan exclaimed, throwing his arms out wide and looking at the girls expectantly. Kelly snorted loudly and shook her head while Izzy just smiled into her glass again. Then the strangest thing happened. Nathan stared at Kelly with an uncharacteristic degree of intensity and she pursed her lips, nodding slightly.

"Well I've got ta powda ma fockin' nose," Kelly announced loudly, sliding down the seat until she could stand up, and moving towards the toilets.

Izzy narrowed her eyes and looked at Nathan suspiciously. "What was up with her?" she asked, eyeing him studiously.

"I know, right?" Nathan said loudly, plastering an innocent expression across his face and shaking his head sympathetically. "Sure her nose was a bit oily, but it really wasn't enough to need—"

Izzy shot him a scathing look that made the innocent expression drop from his face. Izzy stared at him curiously for a moment and Nathan just stared back. A relatively somber look crossed his face and he grabbed his glass, pouring the very last drop of alcohol in it down his throat. He slammed the glass on the table, belched loudly, and looked at her evenly again before speaking. The sudden desire to be inebriated made her nervous.

"Do you ever think that Curtis is making this shit up?" she asked with false levity, smiling too widely in the face of his uncharacteristically morose expression. "I mean, we can all do stuff—obvious stuff—that everyone else can see. Sometimes I think the poor bloke gets jealous. He just has to gasp loudly, tell us all something, and the only option we really has is to believe him."

"Yeah," Nathan said, still rather sedately. Izzy started running her thumb over the glass, swiping off all condensation on the outside of the glass, leaving behind a clear surface. But her slightly pathological behaviors did not change the fact that Nathan was staring at her with a look that she didn't recognize. And generally she didn't trust things that she wasn't familiar with, especially when they came from people she _was_ familiar with.

"What's going on, Nathan?" she asked hesitantly. "You're not making any inappropriate comments about my breasts or my arse or the breasts and arses of all the other attractive females within the walls of this establishment, and it's making me uncomfortable."

Nathan let out a breathless laugh and shrugged slightly. "Nothin'," he mumbled. "It's just that….in this possibly made-up Curtis future scenario, the two of us split up. Sure I went and had a four-some—and don't get me wrong, that's really fuckin' awesome, but…" The statement just trailed off, never to be finished. Which meant that she had to have something to say.

Izzy felt her stomach drop and for some reason she started to feel very, very cold. "Yeah," she replied tentatively, "but whatever happened in the other reality—that's not us, so it doesn't matter. That's it. There's not really anything else to say."

Nathan exhaled sharply and scratched at his forehead, clearly looking for the next words. "Well, Ginger," he said quickly looking into his beer glass as if he was expecting more to suddenly appear, "the thing of it is…..I'm not really likin' the idea of the two of us splittin' up."

"I didn't realize that was on the table," she muttered back, spinning the glass around in her hand and trying to ignore the anxious feeling building up in the pit of her stomach.

Nathan glanced between her and his glass a few times, for some reason having difficulty maintaining eye contact. "Nah, man," he said, shaking his head fervently. "I didn't mean it like that. I just don't want the two of us to split up. Like, ever. I mean who else is goin' to yell at me for not eatin' right and slap me upside the head when I say somethin' stupid."

Any words that Izzy might have had died in her throat. She was good at talking when there weren't any stakes, but when the words suddenly meant something, she wasn't as capable anymore. So she sat there for what felt like a very long time, waiting for her brain to make sense of the new data she was being presented with. And when the processing was done, she was just left with a single, simple truth. Of course the way they first spoke about the possibility of a future in their relationship would be in this roundabout way, through hints and suggestions and weird facial expressions rather than outright conversation. Well she was about to change that.

"I don't ever want to split up either."

No confusion, no hedging—she just said it. For better or for worse, she just said it.

Nathan had been staring down at the bottom of his glass at the last few bubbles of foam that remained, like he was still waiting for some form of disappointment and the alcohol was betraying him with its absence. But when he heard her response, every muscle in his body stiffened. Suddenly Nathan looked up at her, surprised by her response with his mouth gaping slightly. He blinked and stared at her in mild shock. "Really?" he asked in a dumbfounded voice, as if he didn't trust her the first time around.

Izzy glared back at him, but here was humor and joy in her eyes. "Did I fucking stutter?"

Nathan exhaled loudly and smiled. "Well how about that?" he said, that typical good-natured tone seeping back in his voice. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the seat of the booth, his posture suddenly becoming more relaxed. "Look at the two of us, bein' all emotionally mature and shit—talkin' about our feelings and all that."

"Yeah," Izzy said through a light laugh. "Soon enough we're going to find ourselves saying those three little words."

She had said it as a joke more than anything else, but the second those words left her mouth something in the air between them changed. She had gone there, and she couldn't go back. And even if she could, she wouldn't because doing that would have felt too much like a lie. She loved the twat, and she was pretty sure he loved her too. But they didn't have to say it. Saying it didn't make it true and not saying it didn't mean it wasn't true.

"_Those_ words?" Nathan said, his eyes widening a little. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I'm not goin' to say it first."

"Why not?" Izzy asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Because, Ginger," he whined loudly, tapping his finger on the table and speaking slowly like he was explaining something to a child. "The girl always goes first. They're the ones who cry and act all needy. You'll try not to, but then I'll do somethin' terribly romantic like open a door for you and you won't be able to help yourself. You'll take one look at my beautiful face and it'll just pop out."

Izzy snorted into her drink and rolled her eyes at him. "Since when was I ever been needy? I've cried twice in the past ten years. You tear up watching 'Bambi'."

"Hey!" Nathan growled, pointing a finger at her. "That film is a treasure and people who don't cry when his mum bites it are dead inside." Izzy smirked and shrugged casually, making Nathan sigh and wipe at his eyes. "So you're not goin' to say it first either, then?"

"Nope," she replied casually, popping the 'p'.

"Well then we find ourselves in a bit of a pickle, don't we?" he said, leaning forward and folding his hands neatly on the table.

"I suppose that we do," she replied, mimicking his posture.

Nathan narrowed his eyes and shot her a conspiratorial look. "Unless the two of us say it at the same time."

Izzy's mouth gaped slightly and she forced herself to snap it shut. "What?" she asked carefully, trying to hide the little bit of fear in her voice. "Like say it right now?"

"If ya like," he returned. "On the count of three?"

"On three or after three?" she queried, furrowing her eyebrows quizzically.

"On three."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, both with vaguely terrified expressions. This wasn't exactly business as usual for either of them, and somehow they managed to find themselves in a sort of staring contest, neither of them blinking. Her eyes were starting to water a little, but she still refused to blink.

"One. Two."

When it came down to the last second they both paused in their count. Izzy could feel her face scrunching up in discomfort, and Nathan's was contorting into one that probably mirrored her own.

"Nope."

"No."

"Can't do it."

"Me neither."

They collapsed into a small fit of laughter and Izzy slammed her forehead into the table in front of her. "Jesus fucking Christ," she snorted out through peals of laughter. "We've only known each other for a few months."

"An' we've only been together for like two weeks," he tacked on, rubbing at the back of her neck awkwardly.

"We are far too fucked up to get to that stage that quickly," she said, collapsing back in her seat. "There needs to be at least three more months of us dancing around the issue like a couple of dysfunctional weirdos before we get there."

"So it's settled, then?" Nathan said, raising his eyebrows at her. "Three more months and we get back to all this sappy, girly feelings shit?"

Izzy considered his words for a moment and nodded, extending a hand out to him. He took it and gave it a firm shake.

"And," she added, looking at him poignantly and gripping his hand tighter, "if either of us says it in the meantime, we owe the other twenty quid."

Nathan laughed and nodded along. "Well it had better be you, then. We both know I don't have twenty quid."

Izzy leaned across the table and planted a perfunctory kiss on his lips before sitting back in her seat. She was making plans now. It had been years since she made plans. Plans required expectation, and in her experience expectation generally led to disappointment. Lately, though, she was beginning to feel like she could make plans again—that maybe there was a semi-decent future out there for her after all. And she was going to start it with the adorable twat sitting across from her. Izzy was never very good at making the leap, but there was a first time for everything. She moved towards the metaphorical cliff so that her toes came in line with the edge. Then she took another step and jumped.

"There is another option," she said quietly, drumming her fingers against the side of her empty glass. "I've been saving up a shitload of money working at the garage, and I've got just about enough saved up to move into a new flat slightly less shitty than the one I live in now. If you got a job, then we could afford it."

Nathan swallowed heavily—his Adam's apple bobbing dramatically—and he stared at her like a cornered animal. "What, you mean like live together? Together, together?"

"You sleep at my flat five nights a week as it is," she replied, shrugging her shoulders as casually as she could manage. "We practically live together already. You can still crash at the community center if your manliness levels deplete and you start getting sympathy PMS or something."

"So, movin' in together an' gettin' a job," he replied hesitantly, "are you suggestin' that we become like….responsible?"

Izzy let out a single loud bark of laughter. "Responsible?" she asked through hysterical giggles. "Fuck, no. We've got a good five to seven years left in us before either of us becomes really responsible. But our community service is up at the end of the week, and we've got to do something."

Nathan bit his lip and stared off into the distance wistfully. Izzy would never admit it out loud, but she held her breath as the seconds ticked by. "Okay, then," he said finally, clapping his hands and rubbing them together eagerly. "Let's do this thing. You can cook and clean and when it's hot out you can fan me with one of those gigantic palm fronds like in the movies."

"Right…." Izzy drawled out. "In this second rate porno fantasy you're building up in your brain, am I wearing the gold Princess Leia bikini?"

"Actually you weren't wearin' anythin' at all," he quipped back, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Jesus," Izzy muttered, rolling her eyes and trying to keep from smiling. "If this is what I'm going to be living with, I'm going to need another drink."

"Your wish is my command," Nathan said, hopping to his feet and waving his hand in a weird sort of flourish.

"It's about time," she replied, smirking up at him. "I think this is the first time you've actually bought me a drink."

"Puh-leeze, Ginger," Nathan said through a spluttering laugh as he waltzed away. "I'm not payin'. Barry is."

Izzy sat alone at the booth and glanced around the bar. Curtis was still in the toilets for some unknown reason. Kelly was standing over the jukebox, surveying the music selection. Alisha and Simon were standing at the bar, talking animatedly about something or other, unaware that Nathan was sneaking up on them with a mischievous look on his face. It was funny really, thinking back to the beginning of all this shit. She had been so pissed about community service in the first place. Turns out it might just have been the best thing that possibly could have happened to her. She found herself a little family that was just as fucked up as she was.

**So there's chapter 45. Basically I figured that after hearing Curtis's story, Izzy and Nathan were forced to evaluate their relationship and comment on it, and…..yeah. I hope you liked it. I'm not fully satisfied and might go back and change stuff, but I'm getting tired of it now, so…..screw it. It's posted.**

**Oh, also, I was wondering what you guys think of the soundtrack (those of you who have checked it out, I mean). Like it? Have any musical suggestions? I always love to find new music, so send anything along.  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	46. In Progress

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to witchbaby300, Little-doodle-laura5663, incitanemxx, MarleyBeatles, and thereaderlotter for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

*******NOTE*****Right now I'm working on a super-old computer with no spell-check, and I suck at proof-reading my own stuff (and sometimes I type faster than I think) so there might be a lot of spelling, grammatical mistakes. I'll go back and check later, but for now I'm sending this off to the cyber-universe to be judged.**

Chapter 46 - In Progress (3 Months Later)

Izzy hated tapping noises. She didn't know why, she just did. The tapping of pens against a table, somebody's knee bouncing up and down—it somehow reminded her of a ticking clock or an elevated heartbeat or something equally morbid. Whenever she heard it, it was as if the noise was amplified, ringing in her ears and giving her a massive headache. But this time, listening to the pen hitting the paper over and over again, there was something different to the whole experience. It wasn't as if the sound suddenly stopped being annoying as all hell—because it still was. The difference lay in the fact that this time she was the one doing the tapping. And for some reason she couldn't stop.

Three months. It had been three months since their community service had ended and she started trying to write whatever the hell it was that future Simon had needed her to write. A journal, a 'guideline' he had called it. "You sent it to me after you left, when the time was right." That's what he had said. Or something like that—she was paraphrasing. But still, what the fuck was that supposed to mean? What was she supposed to do with that information? And why the hell had he picked her, of all people, to write what she knew down? She was never really a 'sharer', and he was basically asking her to share her life's story. That and the added bonus that each time she put pen to paper it would have consequences for her past and Simon's future. That was just too much pressure. She had tried to start time and time again, but each time the only result was blotted out words and ripped out pages.

Sighing heavily, Izzy slammed the book shut, but as she was doing so some of the motor oil left under her fingernails from that day's shift at the garage left a long streak of black on the inside cover. Pausing for a moment and taking a quick breath, Izzy opened the book again, taking a quick look at the cover. She recognized that streak. It was in the older copy of the book, the one sitting in the lower left-hand corner of the bookshelves in her new flat. Maybe she was on the track towards writing the fucking thing. She had done one thing right at least, even if that thing was a gigantic stain.

Izzy slammed the book shut a second time, this time with finality, and shoved it away from her so that is slid slightly down the smooth wooden surface of the bar. Letting her head drop, she leaned against the bar and groaned loudly, like a child in the middle of a whiney temper tantrum. Shit. If living with Nathan had any drawbacks, it was the fact that she might be regressing in terms of maturity levels.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Izzy rolled her head so that she was staring down the bar at the other sad patrons who were frequenting a dingy pub at three in the afternoon. In the back of her mind it occurred to her that her face was probably being steeped in all manner of bacteria, but she couldn't make herself raise her head. Life was just too fucking frustrating at the moment. And then, out of nowhere, a large glass of lager dropped from the skies into her plane of vision. A small smile crept across her face as she stared at the amber liquid and the small bubbles ascending to the top of the glass.

"I love you," she murmured, pushing herself up off the counter and taking hold of the glass.

"Keep it in your pants," Alisha said through a smile, standing behind the bar and wiping down some of the glasses. "You had your chance. I've moved on."

Izzy looked up at the other girl with wide, innocent, entreating eyes. "I know you're spoken for now," she said wistfully, reaching her hand across the counter. "I know I blew my chance. But I just can't quit you."

Alisha let out a loud snort and rolled her eyes heavily. "You might not want to say that too loud," she replied wryly, gesturing at a bearded fellow down the bar. "If that pervy bloke hears you I don't think we'll be able to shake him."

Izzy glanced over at the bloke in question and wrinkled her nose. "Yeah," she said, nodding slightly. "I've never trusted beards. I always find myself wondering what exactly they're hiding behind them."

The feeling of the lager sliding down her throat was glorious, exactly what she needed in that moment. Sure she was done with her community service, but it still felt like the day-to-day activities she was going through were just as pointless now as they were then. It used to be that she was scrubbing off graffiti, only to have the same wall be painted over again by the next day's sunrise. Now it just felt like she was stalled. Every attempt she made to push her life forward—to make progress—was entirely ineffectual.

"What are you workin' on?" Alisha asked, interrupting the mild moping spell she was entering into. "More applications or some of that custody stuff with Allan?"

"Neither," Izzy replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Call it more of a personal project."

"What, like scrapbooking or some shit like that?" Alisha asked, furrowing her eyebrows and giving Izzy a skeptical look.

"No, not scrapbooking," Izzy replied, rolling her eyes. "What do I look like? Someone's gran? I'm just jotting my thoughts down, that kind of thing. And I'm taking a break from the applications. Nothing seems to be coming from them at this point. Getting community service for knocking over a pharmacy isn't exactly putting me on the short-list with most universities looking for graduate students."

Alisha walked up to her and made face, wiping down the counter with that old rag of hers. "But you've got those 'extenuating circumstances' or whatever. Plus bein' a foster kid you probably fill a bunch of quotas." Her hand paused from the wiping and Alisha fixed her with a funny sort of stare. "Have you told Nathan about them yet? The applications, I mean."

Izzy exhaled sharply and waved her hand dismissively. "What's the point in telling him? It's not like anything is going to come from it. Each one I send out is a Hail Mary pass. I do it because I can and because I would kind of feel like I was giving up if I didn't, not because I expect anything. It was something I wanted to do for myself. The only reason you and Simon know is because the little prick got curious and peeped in on me."

"Hey, that's my boyfriend you're talkin' about," Alisha shot back, waving an admonishing finger at her.

"Yeah, I know," Izzy said in a sarcastic tone, nodding along. "And I think you know as well as I do that your boyfriend is a little weird. Endearingly weird, but weird." It had been said in jest, but then a strange look crossed Alisha's face, a little bit sad and a little bit afraid. "Hey," she said in a low voice, "what's up? Is anything….off going on with the two of you? I thought everything was going well."

"Yeah, it's fine," Alisha said quickly, grabbing hold of a cutting board and beginning to chop up a few limes with greater enthusiasm than one usually applies to the process, unless one is working out some type of personal issue. Izzy just straightened in her chair and folded her hands neatly on the counter, leveling Alisha with that serious stare therapists use. The other girl glanced at her a few times, chopping the limes even more violently until she tossed the knife away and sighed in frustration. She bit her lip and braced her hands on the bar, bouncing up and down on her heels anxiously like there was something she wanted to say, but wasn't sure if she should.

"Okay," she said finally. "Okay, everything's great, except for the bit where he goes out and does those fuckin' back flips and shit like he's tryin' to turn himself into a proper superhero."

Izzy blinked at her in surprise. She knew about Simon's new personal mission, and she was in no way comfortable with it, but after hearing slightly tearful monologues about how much Alisha missed _her_ Simon, she wasn't aware the other girl felt the same way. "Isn't that what you want?" she asked curiously. "You said you wanted the other Simon—the one you had the first time the two of you were together—and the way I see it he's finally starting to show up. I would have thought you'd be happy about that."

"I am," Alisha sighed heavily. "I mean, I was. But then he keeps showin' up with these new bruises and I keep thinkin' about what's goin' to happen next. I want him to stay here. With me. Maybe if he stops all this shit he won't go back and I'll get to keep him."

"So you're like properly in love with him then," Izzy said quietly. "Even without the incredible sex I've heard about way too many times with a traumatizing amount of detail."

"Yeah," she replied, nodding slightly. "Yeah, I think I am."

All of the sudden, Izzy hated that blank journal laying on the counter next to her that much more, not just because of the frustration it was causing her but because of the further reaching implications it represented. Alisha seemed to holding onto some notion that what happened to Simon that first time around wasn't going to happen again. Izzy couldn't pretend to have any fundamental understanding of the space-time continuum, but she was fairly certain that things were going to end up in exactly the same way, no matter what. There was a sort of cosmic momentum pushing things in that direction. The journal served as a reaffirmation of that idea, and that smudge of motor oil she had stained it with served as a reminder that that day was coming closer.

Then there was the other thing. If everything was going to play out in exactly the same way future Simon had seen it play out, what did it mean for her? The bloke had said a bunch of cryptic shit to her before he up and died. "After you left"—where the fuck was she going to go? Outer space? El Dorado? Prison?

"Hey, I've got a favor to ask you," Alisha asked hesitantly.

"Hm, yeah?" Izzy asked suddenly, breaking out of her reverie. "What is it?"

"There's—there's somewhere I'd need to go," she replied quietly. "I would just feel better if someone came with me."

The shifty way that Alisha was behaving gave Izzy pause. "Are you pregnant or something?"

"What? No, of course not!" Alisha said, shaking her head almost manically. "No, you've got to be able to have proper sex to get pregnant."

"Right," Izzy said, nodding absently, still trying to work out what was going on. "I seem to remember something about that from primary school—some cautionary tale or public service announcement, 'if you have sex you will get pregnant and die.' The usual stuff."

Izzy eyed the girl. She wanted more information, but based on the way that she was moving, all nervous and closed off, asking for any would make her call the thing off entirely. "Yeah," she said nodding. "Yeah, the meeting with children's services isn't till tomorrow. Nathan and I had a special queued up, but I can put that on hold for a bit. What's this about?"

Then all of the sudden the door to the pub opened again and Simon's face appeared in the doorway, making the two girls jump slightly, the both of them looking slightly guilty. As soon as she saw him, Izzy grabbed hold of the journal and hastily shoved it into the bag that lay at her feet. She wasn't sure why—there was no way he would recognize it—but for some reason it felt incriminating. Simon glanced between the two of them uncomfortably and giving an awkward smile before making his way to the jukebox.

"Where's Curtis?" he asked as he stood at the jukebox, lingering there and surveying the musical selection with an unnecessary degree of interest.

"He and Nikki are fucking in the bathroom," Izzy replied through a wide yawn. The slightly scandalized look she received from the others made her fold her arms across her chest defensively. "What?" she demanded, shrugging her shoulders. "If they wanted to keep their extracurricular activities private, they wouldn't be so obvious. I mean, he slapped her arse and they went into the same toilet. And then there's the fact that every time Curtis thinks he's going to get lucky he makes that face." She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue a little, imitating Curtis's 'sexy face', making Alisha wince heavily.

"Jesus," the other girl said, wincing heavily. "Have you got to do that? It freaks me out."

"What can I say," Izzy replied, throwing her arms out wide and grinning wider. "I bring authenticity to every role I play."

"Did you mean for that to rhyme, Dr. Seuss?" Simon said, smiling slightly.

Izzy let her jaw drop, staring at him dramatically. "Simon, did you just make a joke? At my expense? I'm proud of you, man." She punched him lightly in the shoulder and he smiled again. It was becoming more and more natural to him—the smiling.

Just then there was a loud banging noise came from the back as Curtis kicked open to door to the toilets, muttering angrily to himself as he stomped out. Apparently somebody was sexually frustrated. And Nikki was nowhere to be seen. Izzy hid a loud snort behind her glass. A very curious picture was being painted, but it wasn't one that she really wanted to dwell on.

"Bad day?" she asked in a high-pitched, overly cheerful voice that she knew grated his nerves.

"Shut the fuck up," he growled in response, jabbing an angry finger at her and making his way behind the bar.

"Touchy," she replied quickly, raising her hands in submission. Curtis just glowered at her and turned around, counting the napkins and swizzle straws, only to reveal a very lacy, dark blue fabric sticking out of his black pocket. "That's an interesting rag you've got there," she said, snorting heavily. "Are you going to wipe down the bar with that after closing?"

Curtis glanced down at his back pocket, and swore heavily, shoving Nikki's knickers further down in his pocket. "I'm gonna go get some shit out the back," he replied, disappearing as quickly and as loudly as he had showed up.

"Why do you always antagonize him?" Simon asked, failing to hide his smile as he finally made his way over to the bar.

Izzy made a face and shrugged her shoulders. "Because it's fun," she said simply.

Simon sat down into the seat next to her and she finally got a chance to look him full in the face. There was bruising and a small abrasion on the right side of his face near his eye. It wasn't the first time she had seen something like this, but it was happening more and more frequently ever since Alisha had broken down and spilled the beans about their little time-travelling romance. It was lucky it was cold out and he had an excuse to wear long sleeves, because at this point his arms were probably a mosaic of bruises varying between a fresh, dark purple and an old mottled green. The bloke needed an intervention, but intervention's were difficult to stage when there were only two people who could actualy confront him about the issue. Somehow it lacked the same shock value as it might if there was a room full of people ready to read their letters and talk about their feelings. The thought of it alone made Izzy shiver with discomfort. Izzy's mouth dropped open and she was about to confront him on it, but Alisha got there first.

"What the hell happened?" she demanded, reaching out for his face and pausing with her fingers millimeters away from his skin.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, pulling back from her slightly. "I was trying to make a jump and I didn't plant my foot firmly enough. I slipped and fell."

"You're not going to become a superhero in a weekend, Simon," Izzy said, leveling him with a concerned look. "Maybe you should start smaller. You know, monkey bars, swings, that sort of shit." Alisha's eyes flashed with something between concern and anger, making Izzy fidget in her seat and clear her throat. "Or, you know, maybe you should take a break. Or quit entirely. You don't spend nearly enough time in front of the telly. Have you even started watching 'Game of Thrones' yet? Lots of nudity. I hear blokes like that sort of thing."

Simon sighed heavily and began mussing with his hair—not smoothing it down pathologically like he used to but more just running his fingers through it. "You know I can't just stop," he said seriously. "And the two of you are the only ones who know why. I have a destiny."

Alisha muttered something under her breath that vaguely sounded like 'that's bollocks' and turned around, grabbing a rag and some ice. "You're goin' to break your neck," she said worriedly. "I'm not pushin' you around in a wheelchair."

"I have to learn sometime," Simon replied, shooting her a small, reassuring smile.

Alisha exhaled sharply and reached out to him again. "Show me."

Simon pulled back, away from her hand as it approached and a look of severe disappointment crossed Alisha's face, leaving Izzy with the distinct impression that she was intruding upon a very intimate, personal moment. It strange, really, how much more frustrated Alisha was in this relationship than she was when she was with Curtis. The constant frustration at not being able to touch him was so much more prevalent in everything she did and said. She kept reaching out to him like she was expecting something would suddenly change and it would all work out, and then had to realize her limitations all over again. Was future Simon really that good in the sack? Ew, no. That thought had to leave her mind immediately. She needed to wash her brain in rubbing alcohol. Thinking about Simon in anywhere near that capacity was like trying to sexualize a cabbage patch kid. She would just chalk it up to the fact that the two of them had a greater degree of emotional intimacy.

Sighing heavily, Alisha wrapped up the ice and shoved the cold compress in Izzy's direction. "You better do it," she mumbled, some bitterness seeping into her voice. Izzy shot her a sad, sympathetic smile and picked up the ice, pressing it to the side of Simon's face. For some reason it felt awkward. "Nope," she said handing the ice to Simon. "It's up to you, mate. This just feels too weird."

Then the door to the pub swung open again and revealed what was possibly the most disturbing the world had ever been exposed to: Nathan dressed as Santa Claus. It was like a Halloween prank had taken human form and decided that it needed to get hammered. And was then followed in by Kelly.

A small smile crossed Izzy's face when she saw Nathan come in. Sure he looked reasonably lecherous and slightly pervy in that Santa suit, but that really wasn't all that much of a change from the day-to-day, was it? She had been nervous when the two of them actually, properly moved in together—worried that she would get tired of him, worried that he would get bored of her—but that's the thing that happens when you end up in a relationship with your best friend. You already know all of their bullshit, all the annoying little habits and quirks. It starts out with you just tolerating them, and then you get used to them, and then you kind of like them. After a while it's like they become part of you—like a part of your body, an arm or a leg or something. When it's there it's the most natural thing in the world—you almost don't notice it you're so used to it—and then the second it's gone you miss it like hell. She had spent so much time being alone, Izzy never thought she'd be grateful to see someone at the end of the day, but that was apparently what had happened somewhere in the past few months.

Nathan collapsed into a bar stool on Izzy's other side, groaning loudly. "Well bein' Santa sucks a big, fat cock," he whined from somewhere behind that giant fluffy beard—further evidence that beards were not to be trusted.

"That was touching, really," Izzy replied, elbowing him in the side. "You should embroider that on a pillow. Or maybe you should consider writing greeting cards. You might get paid more."

"And here I was thinkin' girlfriends were supposed to be supportive," he drawled out, draping an arm over her shoulder and pulling her to his side.

"I am being supportive," she replied, raising her eyebrows at him. "I'm encouraging you to take your talents and apply them in a more lucrative capacity."

"Nah," he said, wrinkling his nose at her. "I was thinkin' about support more along the lines of takin' my coat and rubbin' my feet—none of this 'improvin' myself' bullshit. I bet Barry doesn't have to put up with this kind of crap." He sighed heavily and turned to Alisha, smirking widely. "Two pints of lager, please, barmaid."

Alisha gave him a skeptical look. "Are you gonna pay for them."

"No," Nathan said, snorting loudly. Alisha raised her eyebrows, indicating a negative, making Nathan bristle. "Aw, come on," he whined. "How come Izzy's got one, then?"

"Because she pays for them," Alisha said simply, folding her arms across her chest. Izzy shot him a superior smile, making him grumble loudly.

"Aw come on, then," Kelly piled on, leaning over the counter and sneering slightly. "I've been workin' fo' tha counsel scrapin' up dog shit!"

"That's thirsty work," Nathan said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Kelly. Alisha sighed and grabbed two more glasses, heading for the tap. Nathan leaned forwards, looking down the bar past Izzy and focusing in on Nathan. "So how did it all go so right for you, huh?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "You end up with a cool flat, beautiful girlfriend—"

"I fink it's dead romantic, I do," Kelly interjected.

Izzy furrowed her eyebrows and swallowed down a mouthful of beer before turning to Nathan and staring him down. "And how exactly would you categorize your situation?"

"Aw, we all know why it went so well for me," he said, gesturing at his own face. "I've got all this goin' on. I'm wonderin' how it went so well for him. And to be fair, his flat is cooler than ours."

"Nathan, we live above this bar," she said, making a face at him and gesturing in the direction of the ceiling. "That's like every twenty-something fuck-up's dream."

"Yeah, Ginger, but his flat is underground." He held his hands out like he was juggling two options. "Underground. Above a bar. I'm sorry, but underground is a bit cooler. Plus ours always smells like my mum's meatloaf for some damn reason, and the toilets have been actin' a bit dodgy since I accidently flushed that Transformer toy."

Izzy wrinkled her nose, considering the statement for a moment befor nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. Underground is cooler."

"It's not natural, I'm tellin' ya," Nathan continued, eyeing Simon suspiciously. "I think I liked him better when he suffered from a crippling shyness." Alisha plopped two lagers down on the counter, making Nathan smile widely. "Thank you!"

He went to take a sip of the drink when Curtis appeared out the back room, hands filled with napkins and swizzle sticks and an angry expression covered his face. He swore loudly and rushed towards them. "No! No way! No more free drinks!"

As he got closer, Nathan grabbed at his glass and started chugging down the beer, ignoring the disgusted looks and shaking his head tauntingly at a rather pissed-off looking Curtis. Downing the entire thing in one go, he slammed the glass on the bar and let out a theatrical belch. "Prick," Curtis muttered under his breath.

"Say what you will about manners," Izzy said, taking a dainty sip of her own beer and jerking her thumb in Nathan's direction, "but that was pretty impressive."

"You love it, Ginger," he said, leering at her a bit and puckering his lips. "Give us a kiss."

"Ew," she said curling her lip and pushing him away slightly. "I'm not kissing you when you taste like burp. Brush your teeth first, man."

He gaped at her, assembling his features into a scandalized expression. "How thoroughly unromantic of you!"

Curtis continued to glower at Nathan angrily. "You're goin' to get the two of us sacked," he growled dangerously.

Nathan scoffed loudly. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life workin' at some shitty bar?"

"No!" Curtis shouted emphatically.

"Well, then I'm doin' you a favor," Nathan explained slowly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Refill!" Then he paused for a moment and looked around at the rest of the group like he was measuring them up. "You, know I don't know why the lot of you are in such a hurry to get all settled," he drawled out. "I mean I know Ginger doesn't want to be workin' at the garage anymore. And no offense man, but you're kind of a shit barman, yellin' at the customers and such." The scowl on Curtis's face deepened, but Nathan gave it no notice. "Nah," he continued, "I think me and Kelly got it right."

"So, what?" Curtis sneered. "You think we should be more like you, dressin' as Santa, scarin' kids and handin' out flyers nobody wants?"

"Hey, I'm my own man," Nathan said sincerely, placing a hand over his heart. "I decide when I work and how hard I work. It's almost like not havin' a job, which let's face it is a good thing 'cause I don't think I'd fair well with one of those. But you lot, you work for the man. It's the same reason I haven't got a mobile, I like to live off the grid."

"You haven't got a mobile because your mum finally took you off the family plan," Izzy responded, rolling her eyes.

Curtis continued to glower and Nathan continued to smile back in some strange sort of male posturing. Nathan would win. He always won, simply by virtue of not giving two shits about the whole thing in the first place. The longer he smirked, the more pissed Curtis got. That is until he swore loudly and went back to actually doing his job and not his girlfriend.

"Fucking ridiculous!" another voice shouted angrily. Izzy turned around to see Nikki storming into the pub in a huff, quite possibly also due to sexual frustration. She made a beeline for Curtis, grumbling under her breath. "I had to walk all the way back from the other side of the Estate." Approaching Curtis, she leaned in and whispered slightly louder than she might have intended, "Have you got my knickers?"

Nathan's jaw dropped, appearing positively gleeful, and turned to Izzy for confirmation. She pressed her lips together in an amused smile, trying very hard not to laugh, and nodded enthusiastically. Suddenly the patented 'naked lady' look crossed his face and he scrambled so that he was leaning down, trying to get a suitable vantage point for a good view up Nikki's rather short skirt. Izzy rolled her eyes and grabbed her beer, taking a large gulp. Nikki, catching sight of Nathan's flagrant and ineffective attempts to add 'Peeping Tom' to his CV of lewd behavior, shot him a withering glare.

"Want a look?" she demanded angrily, staring him down. Nathan just gave her a cheeky smirk and shrugged his shoulders.

"I wouldn't mind," he said, his smile widening. "After all, it is nearly Christmas."

Izzy sighed and nudged him in the side-hard-causing him to fall off the barstool. "Hey, hey, hey," she said snapping at him, and pointing at her own chest. "Eyes here. That's your Christmas present."

"If that's my present, then Christmas happens five times during the week and twice on Sundays," he replied, narrowing his eyes at her mischeviously.

Izzy snorted and narrowed her eyes as well. If Nathan could work the fact that he was now getting laid consistently into a conversation, he would do it. It didn't matter what the conversation was about-they could be talking about lettuce or puppies or the fucking debt crisis-but he would find a way. "If you want it to be a more unique experience," she said archly, looking him up and down, "I can arrange that. Maybe you'll appreciate it more if it happens less frequently."

A look of extreme fear and anxiety crossed Nathan's face that made her want to laugh out loud. "There's no reason to go doin' anythin' extreme Ginger. I'm sure we can come to some sort of understandin'! Christmas all year round isn't such a bad thing! I mean let's just be reasona-"

Izzy cut off his rant by leaning in and planting a firm kiss on his lips. If you wanted Nathan to shut the fuck up, you kissed him. It worked every fucking time. And she never got tired of doing it, especially with that vaguely dazed expression that crossed his face every time she pulled away.

Izzy sighed and looked across the bar at Alisha who was staring at her with raised eyebrows and a slightly judgemental expression, though less judgemental than it would have been a few months before. Izzy picked up her glass and drained the last of the beer before slamming the glass down on the counter and hopping off her seat. "Hey, Alisha," she said, grabbing her coat from the back of her stool and pulling it on over her shoulders, "just ring me when it's time for that thing."

"What are the two of you goin' lingerie shoppin' or somethin'?" Nathan asked, looking between the two of them eagerly. "Now remember, Ginger, you need to buy somethin' that'll make the both of us happy!"

Izzy rolled her eyes and grabbed Nathan's hand, dragging him after her. "Come on," she said in amusement. "Let's get you out of that fucking ridiculous costume. It makes you look like a paedophile."

"You hear that, Barry?" Nathan shouted over his shoulder as Izzy yanked him after her. "She's gettin' me out of the suit! That means I'm in there! You should be takin' notes on this sort of shit for future reference!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Izzy muttered under her breath, smiling slightly. "Just don't go expecting me to go and say something like 'Fuck me, Santa'."

The two of them ran up the stairs to their flat, laughing and pausing periodically for bouts of frantic kisses. About half way there, Nathan grabbed hold of her waist and threw her over his shoulder and jogged the rest of the way up. It must have looked entirely ridiculous, a beard-less, Irish Santa absconding with a red-head who was in the midst of a fit of hysterical laughter.

Yes, Izzy felt as if her life had stalled. Allan, her job, her prospects, none of those things seemed to be progressing like she thought they might. She felt like she wasn't going anywhere or accomplishing anything of significance. But as long as she was going nowhere with Nathan, things would be more or less alright. The twat could be annoying as all hell, but he kept her laughing. And wasn't that all anyone really needed?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so part of me thought that the last chapter should kind of be the end to the story, have everything be resolved well and relatively happily, but I decided to go ahead and do the Christmas Special as well. There were a few loose ends that I needed to tie up and always intended to do so with this last episode. However, I also at this point feel obligated to tell you all that the story will be ending soon. I will complete the Christmas Special while weaving in some of my original subplots and then add an epilogue. It will probably end up being 5-6 more chapters. I'm pretty sad about it and will definitely start suffering from separation anxiety. That may be why chapters are getting harder to write. But I have a perfect ending lined up in my head.**

**Also, I hope this chapter turned out okay. I know not a lot happened in it, but I'm trying to set the stage for the last little adventure our beloved gang of fuck-ups will have. It's more for context than anything else and the real action will start in the next chapter.**

**Please review! There aren't that many more chapters coming, so you'll only have a few more opportunities to make me super-happy.**


	47. Powering Down

**Taps on computer screen—hello? Anybody out there? Anybody want to yell at me, criticize me, light the pages of the story on fire and put them in my purse? Please comment/review.**

**And a big thank you to Little-doodle-laura5663, ChayagraceDaya, WinterMemories, and Buru-beri-chan for taking the time to review. By this time I know you know how much it means to me.**

**Little-doodle-laura5663: I will write another MisFits story if inspiration strikes, but for now—after I'm done—I'm already working on a story for the alien invasion show 'Falling Skies' and a novel of my own (sounds pretentious to say, but I am) and there is a 'Supernatural' story developing in my brain. Those would come first, but afterwards I might write another.**

**ChayagraceDaya: Thank you so much for the lovely review. I am certainly getting emotional as well. I'm glad you think the writing is still going strong and that the interactions are believable. I hope I can keep it up! And thank you so much for the continued support.**

**WinterMemories: I'm sorry I didn't do a Simon or Curtis POV chapter. I wish I could have, but I'm not as familiar with their characters and given that there really wasn't enough material for me to create a proper chapter. I'm glad you liked Nathan and Izzy in the last few chapters and I hope they come across as in character and realistic in this one as well. And again, thank you for the continuous support.**

**Buru-beri-chan: That's exactly why I made the reference! I've watched 'Game of Thrones' for ages, but Iwan Rheon being on the show made a reference absolutely necessary.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs and soundtrack are available on my profile.**

Chapter 47 – Powering Down

Why had she agreed to this? Why the fuck had she agreed to this? Maybe it was the oddly serious expression on Alisha's face when she asked her to go with her. The girl had looked worried, and Izzy's kind-heartedness and compassion wouldn't allow her to bail. Hah. That was fucking hilarious. While that certainly did play a role in her decision-making process, it wasn't what it all came down to—she wasn't that good of a person. No, as with everything else in her life it was her bloody curiosity that made her put one foot in front of the other as they crawled deeper and deeper into the seedy underbelly of the estate—and for a place that was generally prone to seediness, that was saying a lot. She could almost see the tetanus covering all the surfaces surrounding her. Curse her curiosity.

"Why am I getting the distinct impression that you're taking me somewhere to be shot?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at Alisha suspiciously and breaking the all-too-serious silence that seemed to be hanging over their heads.

"Would you calm the fuck down," the other girl said through a groan. "I don't see why you should be freakin' out. You used to live around here."

"That's exactly my point," Izzy said, jogging slightly to keep up with her. "People in this neighborhood have a tendency to get shot. There's a reason I moved—this place is the fucking Thunderdome or something." Alisha just continued to walk briskly along the invisible path that apparently lay at her feet. It was like someone had suddenly shoved a GPS in her brain, she seemed to know where she was going so well. But that was the thing with GPS, wasn't it? You stomp around like you know exactly where you're going and then somehow end up in the middle of a forest being bitten by thousands of insects. Or in the ninth circle of hell. Or in the DMV. Or any equally horrible place.

"Are you taking me to the docks to sell me to Somali pirates as a sex slave?" she asked breathlessly, still trying to keep up with Alisha. "Because I would be a terrible sex slave. I'm way too ticklish and my feet smell terrible and—."

"You're not goin' to become a sex slave," Alisha sighed out in an exhausted voice.

"Then what?" Izzy demanded, dodging in front of Alisha and forcing her to stop. "Did you take with you to use me as a human shield in case you get mugged or something? What the fuck are we doing here in a dusty alley in the crappiest area of the Estate?"

Alisha let out another frustrated sigh and put her hand to her forehead, rubbing small circles at her temple like she was trying to stave off a headache. Izzy folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows, giving Alisha an expectant look that made it obvious she had no intention of moving from that spot until she knew exactly what was going on. Alisha glowered back for a few moments, her back stiff, but after a few moments of angsty staring her shoulders sagged in defeat. She gestured at something behind Izzy, making her turn around.

There is was, just stenciled on the one of those dark, dirty walls like your typical graffiti. It was kind of innocuous in appearance, fading into the wall behind. It would be incredibly easy to miss if you were just walking by the way people usually do these days, staring at their own feet and music blasting out of their earphones. The design wasn't all that impressive—two hands reaching towards each other in the face of some strange, red starburst with the words 'Postestas Est Pecunia'. Technically it was grammatically incorrect—it should have been 'Potestas Pecunia Est'—but that didn't really seem relevant at the time. Why was it that everything sounded more dignified in Latin, even when it was incorrect?

To the normal passerby it could simply be taken as some sort of semi-critical sociopolitical message, but to Izzy and to Alisha it held a very different meaning. Especially with that little post-script near the bottom—'cash paid for powers'—followed by some fucking website. The sight of it made Izzy's stomach drop. Three months they had gone without some sort of crazy, potentially deadly misadventure. Three months of feeling moderately normal. She had the distinct feeling that this little innocuous sign and the person who painted it were going to fuck it all up for her.

Izzy blinked at the crude marketing campaign and exhaled sharply, turning back to face Alisha. "What the hell is this?" she demanded, pointing at the sign.

"You're supposed to be the clever one," Alisha replied shortly, folding her arms over her chest defensively. "I think you can figure it out."

"You're selling your power?" Izzy demanded incredulously.

"No," Alisha replied, shaking her head furiously. "I'm gettin' rid of it." She held her hands out in front of her, opening and closing them. "I'm goin' to get rid and I'll be able to snog my boyfriend properly and all of this is goin' to be over."

Izzy exhaled sharply and ran her hands down her face. "If you think that you selling your power to some dealer guy is going to fix everything, then you really haven't been paying much attention. Every time we run into someone else who can do something power-related, shit hits the fan in a big, big way and one of us ends up almost dying. Or actually dying if you're Nathan."

"I didn't bring you with me to give me shit about this," Alisha replied shortly.

"Then why did you bring me?" Izzy demanded, throwing her hands in the air.

Alisha pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders. "The guy's a bit dodgy. I was thinkin' with your power if anythin' off happens….."

"You were going to use me as a human shield."

She pressed her lips together in a thin line and nodded. "Pretty much, yeah. Look, I'm doin' this with or without you. Are you comin' or what?"

Izzy stared at her, mouth open and at a loss for what to say while Alisha stared at her with that judgmental look she hadn't quite lost yet. "Okay, fine," she groaned out, rocking back on her heels. "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Alright, then," Alisha said, brushing past her and stomping off to her destination.

Izzy paused for a moment and watched her go, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Fucking hell," she whispered to herself before dragging her feet after her.

It wasn't that Izzy couldn't understand where Alisha was coming from, because she did. The girl had gotten the short end of the stick when it came to their powers. The limitations that something like that would cause….she didn't even want to think about what that would be like to live with. What Alisha was doing now—it was an act of desperation. If she was in Alisha's situation, she would probably do the exact same thing, but as someone with an outside perspective, she just didn't have the best feeling about this. Generally skeevy men in dirty alleys didn't solve anybody's problem, they just caused more of them.

Eventually the two of them made their way into an abandoned car park next to what looked to be an abandoned building. There were cracks in the spaces between the bricks and in some places weeds were even growing through the stone. The only indication that anybody had been there in years was the relatively freshly painted tag—two hands in a red starburst—that covered up all the other faded paint.

"Great," Izzy muttered under her breath. "We're in an abandoned car park. Nothing bad ever happens in an abandoned car park."

"Would you shut the fuck up!" Alisha hissed anxiously. She was suddenly really fidgety, bouncing on her heels with a sort of manic energy people get when they're nervous. She took a few quick steps towards the door and rapped her knuckles against the slightly moldy-looking wood three times. There was a loud clanging noise, kind of like a rusty latch being opened, and Alisha froze suddenly. "I'm here about my power," she said in a quiet, almost conspiratorial voice.

There was a short pause and then an unexpectedly high-pitched male voice echoed from the other side of the door. "And what about the other one?"

Izzy rolled her eyes and approached the door as well, falling in line next to Alisha. "I'm here to hold her fucking hand," she bit out sarcastically. "Metaphorically speaking. Literal hand-holding causes problems."

"Would you stop bein' so fuckin' hostile?" Alisha whispered harshly.

"It's one of my basic personality traits," Izzy mumbled back. "It can't be all that surprising anymore."

Alisha sighed anxiously and ran a hand through her hair. "For fuck's sake!"

The girly bickering must have eliminated them as a potential threat, because soon enough there was the sound of another lock being open and the wood door squeaked open, revealing a small bloke in a track jacket. Izzy was fairly surprised at the general size and build of the strongman of this little operation, but if life had taught her one thing it was never to underestimate anybody who had the crazy eyes. And this bloke's eyes were all kind of crazy, ever though the rest of him looked like a three dimensional version of Flat Stanley.

The bloke waved them through the door and silently led them through some sort of waiting area until they reached a back room. The inside of that backroom was like something out of a superhero movie, completely white with a bunch of inexplicable drawers or something lining the walls. At the very center of the room there was a guy with dark hair, one of those perpetually stubbly beard that probably took a lot of effort to maintain, and a superior-looking expression—that small, knowing smirk that seriously pissed her off—sitting at a white desk. Opposite him, there was a single white chair, waiting to be filled. Izzy moved and leaned against the back wall, taking it all in. It was like a villain's lair or something, trying really hard to look dangerous and imposing. She half expected the bloke to stand up and shout 'kneel before Zod.' The facial hair was certainly similar enough.

"Do you just sit in here by yourself all say, waiting for people to show up?" Izzy asked from her position, glancing around the room which was so clearly devoid of any form of human comfort. "That sounds seriously fucking boring. You should get a telly or something in here before you go completely batshit insane."

The bloke let out a soft snort and that knowing smirk widened slightly. "I'll take that under advisement." Alisha took a few, hesitant steps forward and the guy gestured at the empty chair, indicating for her to sit. "So," he said casually as she seated herself, "what can you do?"

Alisha let out an awkward laugh and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Shit, she was embarrassed. "Anyone who touches me…they want to shag me. It's like they're super-horny or something."

"I can see how that would be a problem," the bloke replied simply. "How much do you want for it?"

Alisha paused and Izzy could hear her opening and closing her mouth a few times and struggling for something to say. "W—well I don't want anything. I just want it gone. Can you do that?"

The pleased expression that crossed the guy's face made Izzy shudder. She could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. He leaned across the table towards Alisha, smirking widely. "That's why I'm here," he said in an oily sort of voice.

Alisha faltered for a moment, put off by his reaction. "You won't use it on anyone, will you?"

"I can't use the powers when I'm holding them," he said quietly.

"But you'll sell it to someone who will," Izzy said from her position at the back of the room, making the bloke look up at her.

"I'm a businessman," he said smoothly. "I do business."

Izzy let out a laugh and shook her head. "Even when that business is jumpstarting date-rapists? I'm not liking that picture."

A shadow crossed the guy's face and he turned back to Alisha. "Look," he said in a low voice. "I can give you your life back. That's what you want isn't it? Give me your hand."

As she had a good view of the back of Alisha's head, Izzy couldn't see what types of emotions or internal conflicts were flitting across the other girls face, but her hand slowly extended across the table, making Izzy's insides twist into knots. "Alisha," she said in an entreating tone, "I really don't think—"

"You don't know what it's like!" Alisha snapped suddenly, turning her head slightly in Izzy's direction. "You've got no fuckin' clue." And then her hand made it's way across the table and grasped onto the dealer guy's. A jarring, flashing white light filled the room. For about thirty seconds Izzy thought she was having a seizure, but then it subsided. Alisha gasped a few times and wrenched her hand away from the guy, rubbing at her wrist. "Is that it?" she asked in an uncertain tone.

The guy let out a casual laugh and leaned back in his chair. "That's it," he said, holding his arms out. "Enjoy the rest of your life."

Alisha almost hopped out of her chair and walked quickly to the door, eager to get started with whatever the hell that she had planned, and totally forgetting about Izzy in the process. Izzy sighed and scratched at her forehead. That feeling in the pit of her stomach—the one that told her shit was about to hit a comically large fan—was getting stronger.

After Alisha left, Izzy stood there for a moment, studying at the fancified prick sitting behind the table. As much as she kind of hated him at the moment, she found him intriguing. People were puzzles and the broken ones were the most interesting kind. She should know. She was one of them. And that meant she was all that much better at figuring them out. This guy, he wasn't all that difficult. Sure he sat there in his expensive suit and self-satisfied smirk, but she could still see that neck tattoo hiding behind the collar and the constant, nagging sensation of guilt behind his eyes. And then there was the awkward bit where she realized that the whole time she was watching him, he was watching her as well.

"What about you?" he asked, folding his hands together and looking her up and down curiously.

Izzy wrinkled her nose and shoved her hands in her pockets. "What do you mean 'what about me?"

"I mean what's your power," he said in a wry tone.

"Who says I've got one?" she shot back.

He let out a scoff and leaned forwards on the table. "It's obvious, isn't it? You're here. You're not pissing yourself because all the pretty lights. So what is it?"

"That's kind of a personal question, don't you think?" she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

"How do you figure that?" he asked.

Izzy walked up and sat in the vacant chair and smiled her own knowing smile—one to rival his. "In case you haven't picked up on it yet," she whispered in a low voice, "people's powers tell you a little bit about them—their personality traits, their history, that kind of stuff."

"I had noticed certain…similarities, yes," he whispered conspiratorially.

Izzy smiled widely and nodded. "Well then I'm at a bit of an advantage here aren't I? Because I know more about you than you know about me."

"And that's how you like to keep it I suppose," he returned, studying her face in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable, not that she would let it show.

"That's generally how I like to keep it, yes," she said matter-of-factly. She let her eyes flick over him in that same, analytical way he had looked at her. "You always wanted to be the big man, right? King of your little hill? You tried to get there—probably hurt people in the process. Most of them you really didn't give a shit about, but some of them…." She winced theatrically, not missing the flicker of regret that appeared on his face for about half a second. She almost felt bad for the guy, but not enough so to stop talking. "And here you are now," she continued, spreading her arms out wide and gesturing at the room. "Is it everything you hoped it would be?"

The guy stared at her for a moment and then let out a light laugh. "Well this has been very interesting," he said, narrowing his eyes at her with a dark sort of humor in them. He fished something out of his pocket—some sort of folded paper—and slapped it on the table, sliding it over to her. She snatched up and looked at it before rolling her eyes heavily. "A brochure?" she drawled out, her voice thick with derision. "Seriously?"

He just smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "If you're ever in the market, buying or selling, you know where to find me. In the meantime—"

"I'll show myself out," she finished for him. She stood up, crumpled the paper in her hand, and shoved it deep in her pocket before heading to the door.

"It's been a pleasure," he shouted smugly as she made her way out.

"It really hasn't," she replied dryly, not bothering to turn around.

Izzy marched out of the dank building, brushing past the thoroughly unintimidating bouncer as he led in an equally unimpressive looking guy who appeared to be suffering from some sort of anxiety disorder. When she finally burst back out into that old, abandoned car park, it was like she breathing new air again—fresher less skeevy air—but she still felt as if she was choking on it. That bloke in there—the one whose name she never caught—he was about to change everything. It was going to turn into complete chaos. Why was it that everything was so close to being good when it all got fucked up? That seemed to be the pattern.

Night had fallen by the time she got back to the flat, and she was fucking tired. No, it was more along the lines of mental fatigue than actual, physical exhaustion, but she still slowly dragged her feet up those four flights of steps. Reaching into her bag she fished out her keys and let out a sigh of relief as the lock clicked open. Finally.

Stepping into the flat, Izzy heard the blaring of the television from the back bedroom. She still reveled in the fact that she actually had rooms instead of one massive compartmentalized closet. She tossed the bag on her shoulder onto the sofa and made her way in the direction of David Attenborough's distinctive voice. She pushed open the door to find Nathan sprawled out over the bed, staring at the telly and surrounded by a pile of food wrappers.

"Jesus Christ, Nathan," she said in an exasperated tone, "this place looks like a fucking crime scene."

"Shhh!" he hissed loudly, pressing a finger to his lips. "I'm watchin' the miracle of nature, Ginger! This shit needs to be respected!"

Izzy folded her arms across her chest and stared down at him with his eyebrows raised. He groaned and rolled over, shoving the empty wrappers off the side of the bed and gathering the intact ones to him. "Do you want one?" he asked, holding up a packet of crisps.

"Is that even a question?" she retorted.

He shot her a grin and tossed her the bag, patting the bed next to him indicating for her to sit. Izzy sighed and kicked her shoes off. She sat on the side of the bed and leaned backwards so that her legs were dangling over the side and her head was resting on his stomach. He reached a hand down and patted her hair slightly, smoothing it down a bit.

"So where's this sexy lingerie I was promised?" he asked, poking her on the shoulder.

"I don't recall promising any sexy lingerie," she replied in a tired voice. "I seem to recall your delusional, pervy mind creating a mental construct in which I was going to buy some, but—"

"No, no, no," Nathan said, patting her on the head again, this time in a condescending way. "You an' Alisha disappearing like that—there are only three things girls do together all secretive-like: gossip, buy tampons, and buy sexy lingerie."

"I can guarantee that I did none of those things," she replied shortly.

"Well then what the fuck were you two doin'?" he asked through a wide yawn.

Izzy paused for a moment, biting her lip. She still wasn't quite sure of what had happened, or at least of the potential consequences for what had happened. "Oi!" Nathan said, flicking her in the ear. "What's up?"

"Alisha got rid of her power," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"So Barry's gonna be gettin' laid?" he demanded gleefully. "Good for him. One and done is not the way to go about this sort of thing. I was worried that his downstairs area was gonna shrivel up and die from lack of action. That can happen, you know."

"Episodes of the Jeremy Kyle Show and scientific studies are not one and the same, idiot," she replied, reaching up and flicking his ear as well. "And when are you so invested in Simon's sex life."

"I'm not," he said defensively, "but it's about time the little twat got some. I just hope he's up to snuff and all that. A bird like Alisha…..let's just hope he's the little engine that could."

"Jesus," Izzy mumbled, wrinkling her nose. "You've totally ruined that kid's book for me."

There was a short pause in the conversation. Izzy glanced up to look at Nathan, finding his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. That was his 'thinking face'. And depending on the circumstances, his 'thinking face' could be a very, very dangerous face.

"So this miraculous power removal?" he drawled out, pushing himself up on his elbows and looking down at her. "How did this happen?"

Izzy just looked up at him with a bemused expression on her face. "There's this bloke who's dealing powers."

His eyes flashed eagerly as he looked down at her. "Dealin'? As in buyin' and sellin'? How much did she get?"

Izzy made a face at him and shook her head. "Nothing. She didn't get anything she just wanted to be rid of it." A wistful expression crossed his face, and it made Izzy's stomach clench in anxiety. "Nathan, don't go thinking anything stupid. This 'dealing powers' bullshit is a massive tornado of crap just waiting to happen."

"Aw, come on, Ginger!" he whined. "Why've you and Barry got to ruin everything?"

She pushed herself up so that she was sitting on the bed, staring down at him earnestly. "Come on, Nathan," she said, giving him a pointed look. "You have to see the possible problems with this. What if one billionaire buys up all the powers and takes over the country? What if people buy the powers with the express purpose of using them the wrong way? What then?"

"Jesus, Ginger, you're givin' me a fuckin' headache!" he groaned, collapsing back on the bed. "Sometimes I think you and Barry should just elope. The two of you are the biggest buzzkills I know, you'd probably be very happy together."

Izzy rolled her eyes and lay down on the bed so she was next to him. "Please," she scoffed heavily, "I'd never date Simon. He's way too short for me."

"And that's the only reason?" he asked, glancing at her with a small smirk across his face.

She smirked back and shrugged her shoulders. "It's the only reason I can think of."

"The only reason?" he asked again, raising his eyebrows.

"Wellllll….." she drew out slowly, turning on her side so she was facing him, "there might be one more reason."

He turned on his side so that he was facing her as well, their faces only a few inches apart. "Just one more?" he inquired, making a face at her.

"Just the one," she replied, shooting him a smile. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him towards her for a kiss. One of his hands went to cup the side of her face and the other made its way around the back of her neck. It wasn't a very long kiss, but it was a tender one—the kind he had gotten a lot better at over the past few months. Pressing her lips against his for one last moment, Izzy rolled on her back and sighed heavily while Nathan did the same. The two of them just lay there for a minute, staring at the constellations Izzy had insisted painting on their ceiling when the two of them moved in and listening to David Attenborough's commentary on a band of over-sexed bonobos.

"Are you sure about all this," she murmured, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, "the meeting with the children's services people at the community center tomorrow. I know that getting custody of Allan is a long shot, but if I do—"

"How many fuckin' times to we have to talk about this, Ginger?" Nathan whined in response, elbowing her in the side. "I told you, I always wanted little brother. So many things I could teach him—"

"That's fucking terrifying," she interjected under her breath, her voice not entirely devoid of sarcasm.

"Anyways," he drawled out, glaring at her for a brief moment, "I am totally on board with this shit. What's so terrible about it? We've already got a room for the little twat if he ever shows up. And all we've got to do is turn up the music during sexy-times to cover up your ridiculously loud moanin' and then it will be just like normal, but with a little extra. I'll teach him about ladies and you can take care of the borin' homework shit. Between your brains and my body, the kid'll be a fuckin' superhero."

Izzy laughed and reached out, grasping his hand and lacing their fingers together. "You do realize he's not actually related to either of us right? Genetics and all?"

"Yeah," Nathan said with a little hesitation, "but what does that matter? I'm related to my dad an' it's not like I exactly take after that hairy little prick. Plus I've seen pictures and I think the little man kind of looks like me."

Izzy exhaled sharply and squeezed his hand just a little bit harder, smiling slightly as he squeezed back. If somebody looked at the statistics, it would make absolutely no sense that a twenty-something bloke with no higher education or decent job prospects should not only be willing to but be happy to raise a ten-year-old that wasn't his. It was actually something that Izzy was still having trouble getting used to. But Nathan Young was the enemy of statistics, and all other forms of mathematics now that she thought of it. Then again it had been a while since any of those rules—mathematical or otherwise—made any sense. Somehow it all boiled down to one thing. Family. Izzy rolled her head to the side and shot Nathan a sideways glance, studying the expression on his face and thinking about the implications it might have. He was really okay with this. So she was going to give it her best fucking shot.

The two of them sat up straight, piling pillows against the wall so they were comfortable watching the David Attenborough documentary on the TV on the opposite wall. And then somewhere in the middle of learning about oversexed bonobos, Izzy fell asleep on his shoulder.

**It's kind of late for me (a bit past 2am) so if there are any grammatical mistakes I'm going to pretend that that (and not my complete inability to proof-read my own work) is why.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I hate to beg for reviews—which is ironic since saying that is kind of begging—but I would really like to hear from you guys. Have you not liked the past few chapters and if so what haven't you liked? I would like to know so I can improve. **

**Much love,**

**It Belongs In A Museum**

**Oh, and the 'I would make a terrible sex slave, I'm way to ticklish' is a reference to The Mindy Project.  
**


	48. 200 Hours Soundtrack

**200 Hours Soundtrack**

OK, so I love music. I firmly believe that music can bring people to experience emotions and can be crucial in setting the tone for a set of events. It can act as a sort of emotional barometer. So here are the songs I had in mind while writing. If you look at songs set past where you've read, the descriptor might have spoiler.

The starred songs are the ones I consider to be particularly awesome.

**Chapter 1 – This Is Complete Shit**

1) Meet the ASBO shitheads.

-~-~-~-Cellphone's Dead - Beck*********

2) Painting benches, sharing stories.

-~-~-~-Idiots in the Rain – Alec Ounsworth

3) Running for their lives.

-~-~-~-No Problem – Chase & Status

4) Walking home, an attack, and a realization.

-~-~-~-I Cut Like a Buffalo – The Dead Weather

5) End of the day, time to pass out.

-~-~-~-Straight to Hell – The Clash************

**Chapter 2 – I Am Going To Kill You**

6) Waking up and heading to the community center, dealing with the previous day.

-~-~-~-Almanac – The Acorn***********

7) Finding Nathan and inappropriate conversations.

-~-~-~-Got Ma Nuts From a Hippy – The Fratellis

8) Washing away creepy death threats.

-~-~-~-Baby Says – The Kills

9) Foosball and misogyny.

-~-~-~-Unstoppable – Santigold

10) Izzy shares her story (reluctantly) and Kelly bursts in.

-~-~-~-Come Alive [Explicit] – Hanni El Khatib***********

**Chapter 3 – Kill of Be Killed**

11) Arguing until disaster.

-~-~-~-U.R.A. Fever – The Kills***********

12) Realizing and running.

-~-~-~-Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm of the War Drums – A Perfect Circle

13) Finding Gary and killing Tony.

-~-~-~-Mistaken for Strangers – The National

14) Burying the bodies.

-~-~-~-How Low – Jose Gonzalez

15) Saying goodbye and coming to terms with the day.

-~-~-~-Black Flies – Ben Howard************

**Chapter 4 – Is It Over?**

16) Waking up and visiting Nathan.

-~-~-~-Juarez – We Are Augustine***********

17) Smoking a joint and talking with Kelly.

-~-~-~-Over the Hill – Agnes Obel

18) Enter probation worker Sally.

-~-~-~-The Barn – Family of the Year

19) The rooftop.

-~-~-~-40 Day Dream – Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

**Chapter 5 – Someone Knows**

20) Naked man in the car park.

-~-~-~-No Sign of Life – OK Go

21) Izzy is generally scared of old people.

-~-~-~-My Patch – Jim Noir

22) Invasion of the old folk – Nathan talks about Ruth.

-~-~-~-Rumors – Josh Ritter

23) A wind up.

-~-~-~-Alphabet Pony – The Kills

**Chapter 6 - Meet the Gay, Rapist Werewolf**

24) Izzy wakes up, remembers drinks with Kelly, talks with Carl the creepy landlord.

**-~-~-~-**Brothers - The War on Drugs************

25) Nathan has a photo and insists on showing it. To everyone. Whether they want to see it or not.

-~-~-~-I Turn My Camera On - Spoon

26) Sneaking into Nathan's house.

-~-~-~-Psycho Killer - Talking Heads

27) Izzy tries to cheer Nathan up, Nathan leaves

-~-~-~-Hold On - Tom Waits

**Chapter 7 - The Victim Card**

28) Izzy finds Nathan on the steps of the community center, they argue.

-~-~-~-Two [Explicit] - The Antlers

29) Izzy reflects on her conversation with Nathan and hears Alisha scream, goes to help.

-~-~-~-Little Black Submarines - The Black Keys

30) Izzy offers to talk with Alisha, gets defensive.

-~-~-~-Choose Again - Bishop Allen

**Chapter 8 - Aversion Therapy**

29) Old people part 2, Izzy goes to talk to a depressed Nathan.

-~-~-~-Awake My Body - Alexander

30) I refuse to add 'You're Beautiful' to this playlist, so I'm just acknowledging that it was part of this chapter.

31) Realization and hiding out in the toilets.

-~-~-~-You're a Wolf - Sea Wolf**********

32) Going back to the community and talking/not talking to a depressed Nathan.

-~-~-~-Runaway - The National************

33) Finding the note.

-~-~-~-Me and You, Watson - Alec Ounsworth

**Chapter 9 - Cavemen vs. Astronauts**

34) The others find the note, break into Izzy's locker.

-~-~-~-Helena Beat - Foster the People

35) Community service shenanigans, cavemen vs. astronauts debate.

-~-~-~-Barnacle Goose - Born Ruffians

36) Izzy discovers Curtis and Alisha's dirty little secret.

-~-~-~-Kick the Bucket - Charlie Winston

37) Nathan asks Izzy for drinks, Izzy leaves the community center and discovers construction site under the flyover.

-~-~-~-I Can't Hear You - The Dead Weather**********

**Chapter 10 - Gag Reflex**

38) Nathan tries to smash the bottle with his mind, Simon tells them about the construction site.

-~-~-~-Go It Alone - Beck

39) Plotting the body recovery, Curtis and Alisha fight.

-~-~-~-Clap Hands - Tom Waits**********

40) Digging up the bodies and bringing them to the community center.

-~-~-~-Organized Scenery - Au Revoir Simone

41) Izzy waits for Nathan to get back, they talk, end chapter.

-~-~-~-Cataracts - Andrew Bird

**Chapter 11 -Panic Attack  
**

42) Izzy wakes up on the roof of the community center, sees Nathan there.

-~-~-~-White Liars - Typhoon********

43) Loading the bodies into probation worker Sally's car.

-~-~-~-Don't Dance - Hot Chip

44) Sally takes the car with the bodies in the boot. Cue panicking.

-~-~-~-Flower - Moby

**Chapter 12 - Do-Over**

45) Waiting for probation worker Sally to show up and generally freaking out.

-~-~-~-Beetlebum - Blur

46) Pure, mindless vandalism and car thievery.

-~-~-~-Flathead - The Fratellis

47) Relaxing on the roof, going out for a drink with Simon.

-~-~-~-Floating in the Forth - Frightened Rabbit**********

**Chapter 13 - Past Tense**

48) (Flashback) Bowling with Allan, seeing Nathan in all of his glory.

-~-~-~-Tainted Love - Soft Cell**********

49) Nathan and Izzy talk, find Curtis and Alisha 'occupied' in the storage closet.

-~-~-~-Cho Cha (Feat. CeeLo Green & The B52s) - The Teddybears

50) (Flashback) Getting ice cream, seizures, and theft.

-~-~-~-I'm Good, I'm Gone - Lykke Li

51) Izzy and Curtis talk about their respective experiences.

-~-~-~-Returning to the Fold - The Thermals

**Chapter 14 - Power Play**

52) Meeting with probation worker Sally.

-~-~-~-Red Yellow & Blue - Born Ruffians

53) Panic attacks and talking with Kelly.

-~-~-~-Girl With the Red Balloon - The Civil Wars

54) Making plans with Nathan.

-~-~-~-Are You Listening - Kopecky Family Band************

**Chapter 15 - Two-Timing**

55) Nathan speculates about his power, the new mothers appear, and Sam confronts them about Curtis.

-~-~-~-I've Got Your Number - Passion Pit

57) Nathan and Izzy team up and talk with Curtis on the roof.

-~-~-~-Basic Space - The XX

58) Izzy orchestrates a breakup and is quite smug about it, end of of chapter.

-~-~-~-Growing Pains - La Roux

**Chapter 16 - Babysitting**

59) Manual labor and the aftermath of the Curtis-Izzy 'breakup'.

-~-~-~-Burning Down the House - Talking Heads

60) An awkward confrontation with Kelly, Nathan steals a baby.

-~-~-~-Ten Cent Pistol - The Black Keys

61) Nathan's gonna be a daddy.

-~-~-~-Knight of Wands - Au Revoir Simone

62) Izzy invites Nathan around for 'tea'. Which is not a euphemism.

-~-~-~-Up From Below - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

**Chapter 17 - Flat Share**

63) Nathan and Izzy walk up to her flat, Nathan starts snooping.

-~-~-~-Little Garcon - Born Ruffians

64) Establishing the house rules.

-~-~-~-Waltz #2 - Elliott Smith

65) Dinner, a special, and falling asleep.

-~-~-~-A Million Years - Alexander***********

66) Waking up and emotional realizations.

-~-~-~-Palaces of Montezuma - Grinderman***********

**Chapter 18 - Backpedal**

67) Sitting at the lake and contemplating the virtue virgins.

-~-~-~-Wasteland - Woodkid**********

68) Kelly comforts Simon in the locker room, Simon starts acting suspicious.

-~-~-~-Epilogue - The Antlers

69) Alisha arrives virginized and the group discusses what to do.

-~-~-~-On Dancefloors - Metronomy

70) Izzy visits Nathan at the community center to talk about Simon.

-~-~-~-Used To Be - Beach House

71) Izzy and Nathan go to steal booze to find Curtis being kidnapped, end chapter.

-~-~-~-Hustle and Cuss - The Dead Weather

**Chapter 19 - Rescue Mission**

72) Nathan and Izzy at Izzy's flat.

-~-~-~-Sinister Kid - The Black Keys**************

73) Planning a preemptive attack.

-~-~-~-Beat the Devil's Tattoo - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

74) Going after Alisha, getting caught.

-~-~-~-Invaders Must Die - The Prodigy

75) Izzy faces off with the 'virtue bitch'.

-~-~-~-Invincible - OK, Go

**Chapter 20 - Interlude**

76) Nathan sneaks around in the dark, avoids the virtue virgins, and calls Izzy.

-~-~-~-Smoke and Mirrors - Gotye

77) Nathan breaks into Izzy's flat, finds that she's been virginized.

-~-~-~-Skinny Love - Bon Iver

78) Infiltrating the cult.

-~-~-~-Baba O'Riley - The Who*************

79) The fall.

-~-~-~-Under Pressure - Queen and David Bowie************

**Chapter 21 - Death March**

80) Izzy regains awareness, finds Nathan on the fence.

-~-~-~-Kettering - The Antlers

81) Meltdown in the locker room.

-~-~-~-Goodbye (With Soap & Skin) - Apparat********

82) The funeral and saying goodbye.

-~-~-~-The Universal - Blur

83) Leaving the club, talking with Simon, and crying.

-~-~-~-To Build a Home (feat. Patrick Watson) - The Cinematic Orchestra********

84) Don't forget the lovely Iron & Wine song 'Such Great Heights' Simon set the video to!

**Chapter 22 - Gravedigging**

84) Talking with the grief counselor and a paper airplane.

-~-~-~-I Know Places - Lykke Li

85) Complaining about the paper airplane, meeting the new probation worker.

-~-~-~-Wandering Eyes - Kopecky Family Band

85) Art therapy part one, discussing what to do about the note.

-~-~-~-Truth - Alexander********(seriously guys, this song is awesome)

86) Digging up a body and getting a surprise.

-~-~-~-Black Eyes - Radical Face

87) Izzy and Nathan hug and go back to her flat.

-~-~-~-In Response - Peter Wolf Crier

**Chapter 23 - Double-Take**

88) Nathan and Izzy go to her flat, awkwardness ensues.

-~-~-~-Bad Bad Love - Alexander

89) Nathan rejoins the ASBO shitheads at the community center.

-~-~-~-White Riot - The Clash

90) Talking with Kelly and 'Alisha' on the roof.

-~-~-~-I Don't Mind - Phantom Planet

91) Curtis beats up Simon and other misunderstandings.

-~-~-~-The Source/The Sun - The Naked and Famous

**Chapter 24 - Monkey Slut**

92) Figuring out what's going on.  
-~-~-~-Getting Down - The Kills

93) Looking for Lucy and running into the probation worker.

-~-~-~-You Rascal You - Hanni El Khatib

94) Girl talk and waiting for Lucy to show up again.

-~-~-~-A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left - Andrew Bird

95) Splitting up and searching, making all the classic horror movie mistakes.

-~-~-~-Tape Song - The Kills

96) Finding Nathan on the pole and waiting for his death.

-~-~-~-For You - Angus and Julia Stone********

**Chapter 25 - Damage Control**

97) Izzy cleans up, waits for Nathan to wake.

-~-~-~-A Girl, A Boy, and A Graveyard - Jeremy Messersmith**********

98) Talking with Nathan and a disappointment.

-~-~-~-Drops in the River - Fleet Foxes

99) Dumping the body and reflecting on what just happened.

-~-~-~-So Strange - Lucy and the Cloud Parade

100) Talking with Nathan, heading home, end chapter.

-~-~-~-Atmosphere - Joy Division*********

**Chapter 26 - Family Reunion**

101) Sunning on the roof, meeting Nathan's brother.

-~-~-~-Smokestack Lightenin' - Howlin' Wolf (I had to keep this the same as the show, it was too perfect a song to pick a different one.)

102) Digging shit out of the lake, trying to cover for Nathan with the probation worker.

-~-~-~-Was It You? - Spoon

103) Going to the police station, witnessing a fight, and getting yelled at by Nathan.

-~-~-~-Landfill - Daughter

**Chapter 27 - Green-Eyed Monster**

104) Community service and talking about the guy in the mask.

-~-~-~-Electric Avenue - Eddy Grant

105) Arriving at the party, meeting Nathan's 'special friend', and a bit of jealousy.

-~-~-~-Into Your Dream - Foreign Born

106) Awkward encounters with Nathan and Ian.

-~-~-~-Wolfgang's 5th Symphony - Wolfgang Gartner

107) Confronting Ian and getting choked.

-~-~-~-Don't Shoot (I'm A Man) - Devo

108) Bailing on the party, going home, and a realization.

-~-~-~-Stick To Yr Guns - Cribs

**Chapter 28 - Crossroads**

109) A litany of voicemails and waking up to more insecurities.

-~-~-~-The Silence - Avalanche City

110) Finding Ian at the door and resolving past differences.

-~-~-~-Brother Sparrow - Agnes Obel

111) Izzy and Nathan in the locker room, a change in the relationship.

-~-~-~-Comes and Goes (In Waves) - Greg Laswell********* (FANTASTIC SONG)

112) Breaking into a flat, investigating.

-~-~-~-Augustine - We Are Augustines

113) Running from the flat and saying goodbye.

-~-~-~-Howlin' for You - The Black Keys

**Chapter 29 - Awkward Silence**

114) Putting the shit in the skip and making invitations.

-~-~-~-Missing Pieces - Jack White

115) Getting tattoos, Nathan mouths off to Vince.

-~-~-~-Doginabag - The Fratellis

116) Talking with Kelly and getting a call from Simon.

-~-~-~-Stairs - Family of the Year

117) Finding Nathan at the community center.

-~-~-~-All By Myself

**Chapter 30 - Love Hurts**

118) Writing a letter with Nathan.

-~-~-~-Janglin - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

119) Confrontation with Kelly, Izzy thinks about her situation.

-~-~-~-Morning Parade - The Lumineers

120) Izzy talks to Alisha, asks Simon what's going on.

-~-~-~-Broadripple is Burning - Margot and the Nuclear So & So's

121) Nathan gives Simon the letter in the locker room, Kelly and Izzy discuss what to do. Kelly shows up the next day with a tattoo.

-~-~-~-Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye

122) Following Alisha to the guy in the mask's apartment, waiting for something to happen.

-~-~-~-Ash/Black Veil - Apparat

123) The guy in the mask is revealed.

-~-~-~-Oh My God - Ida Maria

**Chapter 31 - Big Reveal**

124) Dealing with future Simon.

-~-~-~-Barton Hollow - The Civil Wars***********

125) The peanuts come out and the fight begins.

-~-~-~-Hells Bells - AC/DC

126) Izzy goes to visit Nathan and they chat.

-~-~-~-Old Friend - Alexander

127) Confessions, a kiss, and taking the next step.

-~-~-~-New York City - Among Savages *****************(FANTASTIC SONG)

**Chapter 32 - Post-Traumatic Stress**

128) Waking up with Nathan there and remembering the previous night.

-~-~-~-You Were Born - Cloud Cult****************

129) Talking it out and coming to an (unofficial) understanding, more kissing.

-~-~-~-I Want You Back -The Civil Wars

130) Meeting the new guy, talking about powers, and an underwhelming display.

-~-~-~-Trash Tongue Talker - Jack White

131) Meeting GTA guy, Ollie gets shot, end chapter

-~-~-~-Phenomena - The Yeah Yeah Yeahs

**Chapter 33 - Coping Mechanism**

132) Running and hiding from GTA guy.

-~-~-~-Minnesota, WI - Bon Iver

133) Izzy cleans herself off in the locker room, Nathan shows up and awkwardly comforts her.

-~-~-~-This Is A Low - Blur

134) Izzy finds future!Simon in her apartment.

-~-~-~-My Way - Kopecky Family Band

135) Nathan shows up with leftover pizza and beer.

-~-~-~-Good Arms vs. Bad Arms - Frightened Rabbit****************

**Chapter 34 - Second Thoughts**

136) In the probation worker's office, listening to him talk about Ollie and reminiscing about that morning (and freaking out a bit).

-~-~-~-No Pity - Wax Tailor

137) Painting the underpass, a discussion, and a fight.

-~-~-~-Daydreamin' (feat. Jill Scott) - Lupe Fiasco

138) Going to Simon's and talking.

-~-~-~-Try - The XX

139) Saying goodbye.

-~-~-~-Shadows - Woodkid

**Chapter 35 - Blunt Force Trauma**

140) Nathan and Izzy at her flat in the morning, Nathan tries to have 'the talk'.

-~-~-~-Jade - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

141) Hearing about Kelly, finding the video game, and making a plan.

-~-~-~-Take It In - Hot Chip

142) Getting the petrol into place and a confrontation with video game guy.

-~-~-~-God's Gonna Cut You Down - Johnny Cash**************

**Chapter 36 - Level Up**

143) Regaining consciousness and hanging out with Kelly.

-~-~-~-Old Mary - The Dead Weather

144) Brilliant fucking rescue and more hanging out.

-~-~-~-Grounds for Divorce - Elbow

145) Alisha comes back and a silent goodbye.

-~-~-~-I Know You Care - Ellie Goulding******************

146) Nathan and Izzy talk about their relationship, make their way back to her apartment.

-~-~-~-Tenuousness - Andrew Bird****************

147) Finding the journals Simon left, end chapter.

-~-~-~-Is There A Ghost? - Band of Horses

**Chapter 37 - Post-Mortem**

148) Finding Nathan in the locker room after he is killed and a little bit of flirty banter.

-~-~-~-More Songs/Leave It - Wax Tailor

149) Talking with Alisha about her relationship with Simon.

-~-~-~-The Chain - Ingrid Michaelson**************

150) Discovering the murderer, end chapter.

-~-~-~-She's A Genius - Jet***************(I feel a special connection to this song *wink*)

**Chapter 38 - Lady Killer**

151) Confronting Simon about Jessica, driving him off.

-~-~-~-Mind's Eye - Josh Ritter

152) Alisha and Izzy see Simon ask Jessica for a drink.

-~-~-~-The Truth - Lucy and the Cloud Parade

153) Nathan and Izzy share a moment, Nathan is 'cock-blocked' by Simon's potential demise.

-~-~-~-Wedding Bell - Beach House

154) A chat with Alisha in future!Simon's flat.

-~-~-~-Miss Friday - Nico Stai**************

155) Staking out the bar and following Simon and Jessica.

-~-~-~-99 Problems - Hugo*************

156) Taking Simon back to the community center, and the unfortunate conclusion.

-~-~-~-Say Aha - Santigold

**Chapter 39 - Fancy Dress**

157) Serving water to charity runners and planning to help Simon.

-~-~-~-Raina - Nick Waterhouse

158) Arriving at the party.

-~-~-~-We Are Young - 3oh!3

159) Izzy goes to the locker room, the group splits up and looks for Simon.

-~-~-~-Who Are You Really? - Mikky Ekko*************

160) Meeting up with Alisha, finding and saving Simon.

-~-~-~-Steppin' Razor - Kraddy

161) Finding Nathan and Kelly on the roof, Kelly's story.

-~-~-~-Dogwood Blossom - Fionn Regan

162) Nathan finds out Simon popped his cherry.

-~-~-~-At Home - Crystal Fighters*************

**Chapter 40 - Press Release**

163) Being outed to the media.

-~-~-~-Helena Beat - Foster the People

164) Meeting Laura and weighing the options, Izzy makes a decision.

-~-~-~-What Fun. - Alec Ounsworth

165) Going home and letting things begin to fall apart.

-~-~-~-Bird Song - Florence + the Machine

**Chapter 41 - Sell Out**

166) ) Izzy sits at the bar and thinks about her situation, meets Nathan in the elevator, goes to see Alisha.

-~-~-~-Smother - Daughter*****************

167) The gang gets together for a meeting.

-~-~-~-Heartbeat - Kopecky Family Band

168) Izzy realizes how much she's lost, end chapter.

-~-~-~-Into the Blue - Sarah Jackson-Holman****************

**Chapter 42 - Breaking Point**

169) Izzy goes back to her room, freaks out, and talks to Simon.

-~-~-~-Severus and Stone - Radical Face*************

170) Mingling at the party.

-~-~-~-Cheap and Cheerful - The Kills

171) Talking with Ian and a realization.

-~-~-~-On And On And On - Jack White

172) Moping and a phone call.

-~-~-~-All I Want - Kodaline***************

**Chapter 43 - Lactose Intolerant**

173) Izzy and Nathan sit in the room while Laura takes care of the Daisy situation.

-~-~-~-Unrequited Love - Lykke Li

174) The others show up, argue about Daisy.

-~-~-~-The Delicate Place - Spoon

175) Izzy wakes up and heads to Nathan's special, talks with Alisha.

-~-~-~-Go Places - The New Pornographers**************

176) Confrontation with milk guy.

-~-~-~-No Sugar in My Coffee - Caught a Ghost***********(SERIOUSLY GOOD SONG)

**Chapter 44 - Regrets Only**

177) Nathan wakes up and cleans himself up, thinks about Izzy.

-~-~-~-Slow It Down - The Lumineers*****************

178) Izzy shows up in the locker room, tells Nathan she's dead.  
-~-~-~-The Things We Do - Patrick Watson*************

179) The angsiest 'I love you' exchange of all time.

-~-~-~-Aotearoa - Minuit

180) Nathan goes after the milk guy, gets put into a coma, end chapter.

-~-~-~-See My Friends - Gravenhurst ***********(first part is great, but it gets to be a bit much near the end)

**Chapter 45 - Forward March**

181) Rewind and confronting the milk guy.

-~-~-~-Teenagers - My Chemical Romance

182) Talking at the bar.

-~-~-~-Amsterdam - Peter Bjorn & John

183) Nathan and Izzy talk about their relationship and where it's heading.

-~-~-~-Sloom - Of Monsters and Men

184) Izzy surveys her friends, end chapter.

-~-~-~-Midnight City - M83*****************

**Chapter 46 - In Progress**

185) Izzy reflects on the journal with frustration.

-~-~-~-All My Friends - LCD Soundsystem

186) Izzy and Alisha talk about Simon.

-~-~-~-Whistle For the Choir - The Fratellis*****************8

187) Kelly and Nathan arrive, chaos ensues.

-~-~-~-Ca Plane Pour Moi - The Presidents of the United States of America

188) Izzy and Nathan go back to their flat, end chapter.

-~-~-~-Young Volcanoes - Fallout Boy

**Chapter 47 - Powering Down**

189) Alisha leads Izzy to some unknown location.

-~-~-~-Pots and Pans - The Kills*************

190) Entering the mysterious building, meeting Seth.

-~-~-~-Makeshift Kingdom - Sweatshop Union*************

191) Izzy and Seth face off.

-~-~-~-Gold Lion - Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs.

192) Izzy goes back to her flat and talks with Nathan.

-~-~-~-Eyes - Rogue Wave************


	49. Brotherly Love

**Thank you to everyone who read/favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate the support. You guys make me feel validated.**

**And a big thank you to Guest, solarflares, XxGeeksicalxX, ChayagraceDaya, Mystic-Scriptures, Ellen-may, Lady Shagging Godiva, Fighterr, TwelveOhSeven, Katherine P, WinterMemories, LittleGee, witchbaby300, and Just-another-teenage-dirtbag for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits, but wouldn't it be cool if I did. Any familiar dialogue/elements are taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs are on my profile and the soundtrack is saved as a chapter in the story.**

**Hi! I'm back! Updates will probably still be sporadic and I'm not sure how this chapter turned out (I need to get back in the right frame of mind), but I hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter 47 – Brotherly Love

Izzy woke up early the next day—earlier than usual. Well, no, that wasn't true. For her to wake up she would have had to fall asleep first. It wasn't like she hadn't tried. She had laid there for hours staring up at those painted constellations and waiting to fall asleep while Nathan snored like a lawn-mower rolling over gravel, but the sleep had never come for her. She was left with a jumpy mind and eyes that felt as if somebody had rubbed sand in them.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound of her pen hitting the papers underneath rang out again, like some sort of external, auditory manifestation of her own anxieties. She was sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, pulling at the ends of her hair, and pouring over the documents, looking for any possible loopholes that might allow a 23-year-old young offender adopt a small child. None seemed to appear. Which all made her wonder how the hell she had managed to get the meeting with the social worker to begin with. It was possible that the three emails and four phone calls a week had a little something to do with it. But then again for all she knew she was being lured there so they could slap her with the institutional equivalent of a restraining order—charge her for harassment and that kind of thing. Oh, well. She was still going anyway.

"Fucking hell," she growled to herself, shoving the papers into a pile with aggressive neatness and tapping the edges on the desk until they formed a perfect stack with all of the tabs perfectly aligned. Izzy liked to have everything in its place, but life didn't work like that. If everything was in its place, then Allan would be in the other room, asleep on Nathan's old Superman sheets, after they had been washed a few hundred times of course. She glanced over at the clock. 8:30 a.m. The meeting was at 10:00. Almost time to go.

Placing the papers in a folder, Izzy stood up from her chair and stripped off the baggy T-shirt she was wearing and wandered towards the closet. She grabbed the neatly pressed white collared shirt and simple black pencil skirt bought especially for the occasion and pulled them on before turning to the mirror to get a good look at herself. Shit. With the exception of the bare feet, un-made face, and slightly stringy hair, she looked like one of those professional twats who work in offices and talk about quarterly earnings reports and that kind of shit. It looked so unnatural. But then again that was the point, wasn't it? She had to make herself looked like a together, grown-up, adult person. She grabbed the comb from her dresser and started yanking it through her hair violently.

"I want to be there for you," a muffled, rough voice said from the bed behind her. Izzy glanced over her shoulder to see Nathan looking up at her with a bleary expression and a silly smile on his face. It was quite a sight, him pushing himself up from the bed with his curly hair sticking out every which-way. There weren't many things that gave Izzy that weird fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach, but that was still one of them, even after three months.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, running the comb through her hair a few more times.

"I want to be there for you," he repeated. "You and the little lad."

Izzy's eyes snapped to meet his in the mirror. There was a strange look of earnestness in them. "Shut up, you are there for me," she muttered, throwing that baggy T-shirt at him so that it landed on his face. "You let me bitch about work, you make me tea when I've got cramps and it feels like someone's tearing out my uterus, you—"

"That's not what I mean," he whined loudly, clambering out of bed and tripping over the sheets. "I mean like with money that kind of thing. Buyin' wee little Allan stuff like a football, his first beer, his first titty magazine—"

"Gross."

"Anyways, the point is I wanna be there for you."

Izzy turned around to face him and draped her arms over his shoulders, linking her hands behind his neck. "Well as far as the money thing goes, you're pretty much fucked seeing as your broke and all that."

He placed his hands on her hips and stuck out his lower lip in a childish pout. "Now why've you got to go an' say something like that—all emasculatin' and shit?"

Izzy let her head drop and snorted loudly, shaking her head. "Who cares about money and all that shit, Nathan? I sure as hell don't. You're there in all the ways that matter. Hell, after that time I got food poisoning, you held my hair back for like six hours while I was puking in the toilet. I mean sure you complained about it and made a shitload of 'A Perfect Storm' jokes, but you stayed anyway."

"I am incredibly considerate," he said, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her in closer.

"You're the person who holds my hair back when I puke," Izzy said, smirking up at him. "You don't get much more 'there' than that. If you stick around after seeing a girl explode from every orifice, that means something."

"Well it's only fair—you saw mine, I should get to see yours," Nathan shot back. "I've pissed shat myself more times than I can remember."

"Oh, baby," Izzy said, her voice thick with mock lust. "I can't handle how sexy you're being right now. Be still my beating heart."

Nathan bit his lip in a way that was probably meant of be seductive. "You like that do ya?"

"You know it."

Nathan ducked his head down and captured her lips with his. Izzy tightened her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to meet him. Nathan's hands began to pull slightly at the hem of her shirt tucked into the pencil skirt, making Izzy arch into him instinctively. She did have an hour and a half until the meeting after all. They kissed eagerly as her hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, trying to pull him in even closer as that familiar swooping sensation formed at the base of her stomach.

After a few moments, though, there was a loud knock at the door to the flat. Izzy wanted to ignore it, to keep on doing exactly what it is that she was doing, but the person at the door was a persistent little bugger. Izzy shifted slightly and glanced over her in the direction of the door. "We'll be with you in a few minutes!" Nathan shouted out, still searching for her lips.

Izzy shook her head and pulled away, tucking her shirt back into her pencil skirt. "Sorry buddy," she said, planting one last peck on his lips and patting him on the shoulder. "Looks like the universe doesn't want you to get lucky this morning. I've got to get moving anyway. Little Nathan will have to wait."

"Aw, come on, the little guy's already standing at attention," he whined loudly, pointing at his crotch. "I think he should be rewarded for his enthusiasm."

"Well tell him to stand down," Izzy said, smacking his arse. "He can live to fight another day. Now go answer the door."

Nathan groaned loudly and violently yanked open the bedroom door, stomping loudly down the hallway leading to the front of the flat. "Tease!"

"Pervert!"

Izzy stayed in the bedroom, moving back in front of the mirror and readjusting her clothes, smiling slightly as Nathan grumbled loudly. "Aw, look who it is!" Nathan called out from the front door. "It's Barry the cockblockin' robot!"

"Grow up and offer him some tea or coffee or something!" Izzy shouted back. She grabbed a comb, hair tie, and a few bobby pins from the surface of her nearby and brushed her hair back into a tidy bun. Sighing, she straightened up and rolled her shoulders back so that she reached her full height. The effect was exactly what she was going for. Conservative, understated, professional—she looked like a boarding school matron or an investment banker or some other equally boring adult. She pulled have the sleeves and grabbed some cover-up, dabbing the flesh-colored liquid over her tattoo to conceal it. Finally Izzy slipped on that pair of plain black pumps, grabbed her briefcase and her papers, and she was ready to go. Shit, there was nothing left to stall with. She was actually about to go do this thing.

By the time she made it to the front of the flat, Nathan and Simon were sitting on the sofa side-by-side. Simon had a rather glum expression on his face and Nathan had his arm draped over his shoulders in a slightly condescending, big-brother type way. "What's this?" Izzy demanded, moving towards the kitchen area and pouring herself what was probably her fourth cup of coffee that morning.

"It's nothing," Simon stammered out, smoothing his hair down pathologically as he glanced over his shoulder at her. He paused for a minute, taking in her appearance. "You look nice."

"Don't lie, Simon," she said, rolling her eyes heavily. "It doesn't suit. I look like a twat."

"Not if you pop open a couple of buttons on that blouse," Nathan said, twisting around in his seat and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Let the girls out to breathe. Then you've got a sort of naughty librarian thing goin' on. Maybe I've got a library book that's overdue and you're goin' to give me a spankin'."

Izzy grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and chucked it at his head, making him yelp loudly and duck. "Please Nathan," she said through a yawn, absently stirring in the milk and sugar. "If you want to start role-playing at least keep the scenarios somewhat realistic. You setting foot in a library is ridiculous enough, but actually checking out a book…." Izzy glanced between the two blokes suspiciously. "So what's up?"

"How did you like that film I sent you on—"

Izzy bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at Simon. "Don't go trying to change the subject on me Simon. I'm far too clever for that. What's going on?"

"Really it's nothing," he said, shaking his head frantically.

"Right," Izzy drawled out, moving to the sofa as well and plopping down so that Simon was wedged between her and Nathan, and looking significantly uncomfortable. "So I take it that you and Alisha did the deed?"

"What?" Simon said, his eyes widening. He opened and closed his mouth, searching for the words and glancing between the two of them. "No—it's not—"

"They most certainly did," Nathan interrupted, punching Simon lightly in the shoulder. "And apparently the goods were not as advertised. Her pubes were like a woodland forest…like out of the 'Blair Witch Project'."

Izzy's lip curled involuntarily. "Seriously? But she's so well-groomed otherwise."

"It's not that!" Simon said defensively, glancing between the two of them. He groaned loudly and ran his hands down his face in frustration. "I was shit."

"Oh," Nathan said, making a face. "Well that makes more sense, then."

"Nathan!" Izzy hissed angrily, reaching around Simon to smack the idiot on the back of the head. "You can't say things like that!"

"Well if the extra-small sized condom fits—ah! Stop hitting me!"

"I'll stop hitting you when you stop saying shit like that! Jesus fucking Christ!" Izzy sighed heavily and put a comforting hand on Simon's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. That only seemed to make him more uncomfortable, though, so she pulled it away. "Look, it takes practice. I mean, when Nathan and I started out it wasn't nearly as good as it is now."

Nathan's head suddenly snapped up, a look of alarm on his face. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, come on," she replied dryly. "The way you used to paw at my breasts? It was like you were trying to rip open a piñata to get at the candy inside."

Nathan folded his arms across his chest and collapsed back into the sofa, pouting like a petulant child while Simon sniggered slightly. Izzy laughed lightly and hauled herself out of the sofa, moving to sit on his lap and planting a short kiss on his lips. She draped an arm around his shoulders and eventually his arms reluctantly wound their way around her middle. "Look," she said, staring poignantly at the two of them and tightening her hold on Nathan, "relationships take work—they take time. Anybody who expects to jump into the sack and be a stud their first time to the rodeo is an idiot."

Nathan grumbled quietly and tightened his hold on her. "I'm a stud now though, right?"

Izzy snorted loudly and played with the hair at the nape or his neck. "Yes, dearest," she said, kissing him again. "You're a stud."

"Good!" he proclaimed cheerfully, making an uncoordinated effort to slap her arse. " 'Cause I reckon Barry here is out for sex tips from a far more experienced lover."

Izzy wrinkled her nose and extricated herself from his arms. "Alright, then," she said, standing up and grabbing her briefcase from its position at the base of the sofa. "If you blokes are going to start talking shop, then I'm going to leave."

"Aw, come on," Nathan called over as she moved towards the door. "We're just gettin' to the good stuff!"

Izzy sighed heavily and scratched at her forehead. "Seeing as 'the good stuff' will probably include a detailed account of our physical relationship, I don't think I want to be here. I'm understanding, but I'm not that understanding. And if I stay around I'll probably have to drive you to the hospital to treat a concussion for getting slapped over the head to many times, and that would take a big chunk of time out of an already busy morning."

"Who says I'll be talkin' about you," Nathan said, waving a finger in her direction. "I'll have you know that there are plenty of other birds who have screamed my name—or whatever I told them my name was—after I—"

"I want you to think really hard about whether or not you want to finish that sentence." Apparently the expression on Izzy's face was suitably terrifying, because the words died on Nathan's lips. He sat there for a moment with his mouth hanging open stupidly before suddenly snapping it shut and swallowing heavily. Izzy smirked widely. "That's what I thought. You two have a lovely day."

With that she opened the front door and stepped through. The move felt oddly symbolic, like she was taking the first step towards a possible future—like she was stepping onto a new path. She moved to close the door, but before she could get it completely shut, the Nathan's lilting Irish voice wafted through. "Two words, Barry. 'Fisherman's Friend.'"

Izzy cringed slightly and felt her face flush with embarrassment before slamming the door shut and taking some very long, very fast strides down that hallway. Because whatever was being said in that room, she did not want to know about it. Barry—Simon—needed whatever help he could get in the bedroom department, so she would let him have it, but she would rather shove an ice pick in her ear than listen to Nathan's in depth description of their sexual escapades.

It only took her about twenty minutes to walk back to the community center from her and Nathan's flat, meaning she was about an hour early for the meeting itself. She went to the toilets and double-checked her appearance, smoothing down her hair and cleaning the lines of her makeup where sweat might have marred it to some extent. She took a step back from those familiar mirrors and looked at herself. She looked perfect and polished—or as perfect and polished as she could be—which was kind of ridiculous considering the dirtied, cracked, smudged, damaged state of the mirror itself. Maybe she only looked perfect in comparison.

In that moment it occurred to her that this situation was entirely ridiculous this situation was. After three full months, she was back in the community center. Strangely enough, all of the major events of her life of late kept happening within the four walls of that community center—even when she thought she had left them behind for good. It was where she had lost Nathan and where the two of them had found each other again. Shit, that was incredibly fucking cheesy. Was that what relationships did to you? Turn you into a cheesy, sappy person? She would have to keep her eye on that aspect of her personality before it got too out of control. But—all cheesiness and sappiness aside—it was true. And now the community center had a different sort of significance for her—one which existed outside the clichéd love interest aspect to it all. The community center would be the place that she first truly lost Allan, and it would be the place where she could maybe—just maybe—win him back.

However inspired or illuminating that realization was, it was also kind of anti-climactic since she pulled out the phone and realized that there were still 44 minutes left before the meeting started. Ultimately she ended up playing foosball against herself for about a half hour and then spent the last quarter of an hour sitting in the designated office and tapping her foot at a freakishly rapid rate. She was almost afraid that the carpet would catch fire.

By the time the social worker or whichever official they were sending in her direction got there, Izzy's palms were sweating horribly. The last time she had felt that panicked was the day of her sentencing. Izzy didn't pretend to be some remarkable, stoic figure, but Allan was the only thing, the only topic, the only person, who could make her palms sweat that way. She kept looking at the clock.

9:57 a.m.

9:59 a.m.

10:00 a.m.

10:01 a.m.

10:03 a.m.

10:07 a.m.

At 10:11 a.m., Izzy saw the shadow walking down the hallway through the slats of the blinds that covered all the windows in the interior offices. At that moment, Izzy threw herself to her feet and wiped her hands on her shirt, trying to get off some of the excess sweat. The door opened to reveal a woman not much older than Izzy herself, probably around 26 or 27 years old, looking a little bit frazzled—hair falling out of a loose bun with a few pens shoved in, a slightly rumpled shirt with a coffee stain on the sleeve, and a stack of disorganized papers in her arms.

"You must be Isabelle McCallum," the woman breathed out, balancing the papers precariously on the crook of her arm and holding out a hand.

"Yes, that's me," Izzy said through an uncharacteristically sweet, nervous smile, taking the offered. "It's nice to meet you…"

"Karen," the woman said, giving Izzy's hand a definitive shake. "Karen Coulson. If you'll give me just a moment."

She let the pile of papers collapse on the desk before herself collapsing in one of the chairs. Izzy cleared her throat awkwardly and sat in the chair opposite, neatly crossing her ankles and suddenly feeling like she might have overdressed. When the woman—Karen—finally seemed to get settled in, she exhaled sharply and folded her hands on the stack before fixing Izzy with a stare that made the girl's blood run cold. It wasn't encouraging. It was the look you give to somebody right before you disappoint them.

"Look, Isabelle," Karen said in a tired voice, "I'm going to be upfront with you because I don't want you to get your hopes up. As things stand now, it is incredibly unlikely that you will be able to claim guardianship over Allan Pacey."

Izzy's hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly her knuckles turned white as they strained against the skin. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, causing her mouth to fill with blood and the taste of pennies. Slowly, she reached a hand to the back of her head and pulled out the hair tie, allowing that neat bun to disintegrate and letting her hair spill messily on her shoulders. "If that is the case," she whispered, running a hand through the unruly locks, "and I never had a chance to begin with, then why did you set up this meeting in the first place?"

The woman blinked at the sudden change of tone. "Because I found your file. I—I'm new in the office and I was going through some backlogs and I found this file with all these letters—your letters. As far as I could tell nobody had ever read them through and I thought you deserved a response at the very least—or an explanation as to why things ended up this way. Today's my day off."

A bitter laugh erupted from Izzy's throat. "Go ahead then," she responded, waving her hand. "Tell me why he's better off with someone else."

"Oh, I'm not going to tell you that at all," Karen said quickly. It was Izzy's turn to blink in surprise. She narrowed her eyes at the woman, but all outward appearances suggested she was genuine. A small, sympathetic smile covered Karen's face and she leaned in slightly. "Like I said, I read the letters—I read your file and Allan's—I think that you would be the person best equipped to take charge of his care. The problem is that it's not up to me."

"Well then who is it up to?" Izzy demanded in a hoarse whisper. "Who do I need to talk to?"

"Henry Cartwright is the head of our offices," Karen replied. "He would be the one you need to persuade, but someone in your position….To say that giving you custody would be highly unlikely is a gross understatement. On paper you are a terrible candidate. You're barely in your twenties, you have a criminal record, you have a reasonable job but it isn't exceptional. If you were blood related it would be one matter, but as you aren't…..You'd be hard-pressed to find anybody who would give you the chance to adopt. Especially when the child in question has such disruptive behavioral problems."

The nervous tapping of Izzy's foot came to a sudden stop. "Wait, what do you mean 'behavioral problems'?" Izzy interjected suddenly. "Allan's gotten into a few fights, sure, but that was with school bullies. He's a good kid."

Karen's mouth hung open for a moment before she went back and began rifling through the papers on the desk. After finding the right one, she pulled it out of the stack and her eyes darted back and forth across the page as she skimmed it. "According to my records, Allan has been bounced around quite a bit starting a little less than six months ago. There haven't been any cleat reasons why he's been rejected by so many families, but nobody has kept him from longer than a month. He's staying in a group home now."

Izzy sighed and rubbed at her forehead, trying to work away the headache starting to form. Group homes—they weren't good, especially for a kid like Allan. The food was bad, the supervision was minimal and for a young boy with a serious medical issue who needed more individualized care, it could even be dangerous. "Where is he? Right now, where is he?"

At that moment a smile made its way onto Karen's face that was neither sympathetic nor pitying. "That's the other reason I came here today." She got up from the desk and organized her things before moving to the door. "Follow me please."

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Izzy got to her feet and followed the woman out the door and down the hallway. The two of them came to a stop in front of the rec room. Izzy peered through the blinds and pressed a hand to the glass of the window. A gleeful laugh erupted from her throat when she saw what was inside.

Allan was at the foosball table, much like she had been not an hour earlier, playing against himself. Izzy let out a disbelieving laugh as she stared through. Karen came to stand next to her and shot her several side-long glances. "Well?" she prompted, nodding in Allan's direction. "What are you waiting for?"

Izzy afforded Karen one last silent look of gratitude before reaching for the door handle and pushing her way in. Allan kept playing for a moment until Izzy shut the door behind her. At the sound of the latch clicking shut, his head swung around and his big, brown eyes made contact with her hazel ones. The two of them stood there for a moment, frozen in complete silence. He was a few inches taller than the last time she had seen him. His sandy blonde-brown hair had been cropped short and some of the baby fat had melted away, leaving his cheekbones sharper and his face generally more angular. A small little, half-smile appeared on his face, identical to the one that appeared on hers.

"Hey there, monkey."

Allan sprinted in her direction and she dropped to her knees. He collided with her, knocking the air out of her chest, and threw his arms around her neck. Wrapping one arm around her middle and placing the other at the back of his head, Izzy pulled Allan as close to her as possible. He buried his face in her shoulder and squeezed tight.

"Why do you look like one of the ladies who work at the bank?" he mumbled into her shoulder.

Izzy began to laugh hysterically. "What's wrong?" she choked out through the laughs. "You don't like the new look?"

"Not at all," he mumbled back. "You look like all the other grown-ups, and you remember what we say about grown-ups, right?"

"Yeah, little man," she replied. "They're the worst. Grown-ups are the worst."

"Exactly."

Eventually Izzy pulled herself out of the embrace and placed her hands on his shoulders, and held him an arms length away from her, looking him up and down. "What if I told you I was in disguise," she said through a smile. "Pretending for long enough to get some information."

Allan grinned back. "My big sister the spy."

Izzy raised one of her hands to cup Allan's cheek, brushing against it slightly with her thumb. "What do you say to a game of foosball?"

"Only if you promise not to cry like a little girl when I kick your arse."

Izzy stood to her full height and planted her hands firmly on her hips, fixing him with a serious stare. "Allan Pacey, what have I told you about using language like that?"

He pouted and folded her arms over his chest. "That it's sexist."

"Exactly. So are we going to play or what?"

In Izzy's experience, you could tell a lot about a person from how they played foosball. There were the tactical players who made small movements and then there were the ones who would violently spin the players, slamming everything around. The first type were usually characterized by a cooler head while the second was generally quicker to anger or—like Nathan—had absolutely no patience whatsoever. Allan used to be that first type of player, but now he was more angry and aggressive in his movements. After about a half an hour of playing and stories and laughing, Izzy finally dug far enough into herself to get the courage to ask one particular question.

"Hey, Allan," Izzy asked, twisting the bar to make a shot, "that woman who brought you here—"

"Miss Karen?" he asked, blocking the shot easily. "She's nice—nicer than the others. She took me out for ice cream."

"Yeah, her. She mentioned that you've been moved around a lot lately. Why is that?"

The bar slipped slightly in Allan's hand and he lost control of the ball. He quickly recovered it and sent it for a shot at the goal, but she flipped the goalie around so that it caught the ball, trapping it in place.

"Oh, come on Izzy," Allan whined, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Let's keep playing."

Izzy sighed and pushed the hair out of her face. She reached into the table and picked up the ball, making Allan whine even louder. "No," she replied shortly. "You get this back when we talk about this." Allan's face pinched into a frown and he shoved his hands in his pockets, making Izzy sigh heavily. "Allan, I know we haven't seen each other for a long time, but you can still trust me. And believe that I have been doing everything I can to get back to you. You know that right?"

Allan's shoulders sagged and he nodded. "I know you have, Izzy."

Izzy rounded the table and took Allan by the hand, leading him over to the sofa. "Allan, have you been getting in trouble? More fights?"

He pressed his lips together and shook. "Not fights, no."

She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Then what is it."

After a moment he looked up at her with wide, slightly watery eyes. "It's not my fault."

"No," she said, snaking an arm around his shoulder and pulling him towards her. "No, of course not."

Allan's knee started bouncing up and down nervously and he began wringing his hands while he stared at his feet. "It started a little after they arrested you. I had another seizure at school—kids were making fun of me. I just….I wanted them to know what it felt like, you know? I wanted them to feel all of it too so they would just…stop…..laughing. I was walking home from school and there was this storm—huge ice chunks falling from the sky, it was really cool. And after—"

"What can you do?" The question forced itself from her mouth without her even thinking about it. That goddamn storm. Fifteen seconds that sent her life into a tailspin, and she was okay with that, but if that storm had screwed with Allan as well….

Allan's head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You believe me?"

"Allan," Izzy murmured, leaning in, "what can you do?"

He exhaled sharply and shook his head, looking back down at his feet. "Whenever I get really, really angry or upset, the person I'm mad at starts shaking. Like they're having one of my attacks. I don't mean to do it—I really don't. And none of them stay hurt. I just—I—"

Izzy sunk on her knees in front of the sofa and took his hands in hers. "Allan, you know I never make promises I can't keep, right?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, nodding slightly.

"Well, I promise I will do everything I can to make this okay. Okay for you, okay for me. I'm going to keep trying until it's all okay." Letting go of his hand, she moved to the other side of the room where her briefcase lay before returning to Allan. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a small, toy robot and put it in his hands. "I know it's a bit late, but I though it was about time I gave you this."

He took the robot in his hands and flipped it around, a small smile finding its way to his face.

"Thanks, Izzy."

"No problem, little man."

**Please review!**


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